The Daughter of Darkness - Rebels
by Nic-n'-Nyx
Summary: Bree and her sisters Hunter and Brook have been each others' only family for years. Until they found out they were demigods. Now there's a war to fight, and for some reason, Kronos is convinced that they'll be the difference between defeat and victory. But how far can they trust him? Their new friend Ethan says not to worry, but odd disappearances of other demigods say different...
1. Prologue

Disclaimer;

We, Nyx and Nic, do not own the Percy Jackson and the Olympians or The Heroes of Olympus series. They belong to Rick Riordan, including the characters Luke Castellan, Ethan Nakamura, Kronos, and Nemesis. None of our characters really show up in this chapter.

Also note that this is a prologue, not necessarily Chapter 1. I'm not sure how to label chapters as prologues…

The boy stumbled through the dark stone-and-dirt tunnel, his hands covering his left eye. Tears welled and spilled over in his right. Blood, black in the low light, seeped through his fingers and down his arm, leaving a trail as he ran. There was a lot of it. He felt its hot temperature, and its foul stench bathed his tongue. He kept panting and running, though, too scared to even glance over his shoulder.

Around him, the tunnels in the distance groaned as they altered. They were constantly changing shape, constantly working against him. The maze read his mind. He knew of the traps its corridors concealed and had spent years avoiding them. This merciless death trap had been his home for so long. It was hard to remember when it hadn't been.

The growls of hidden monsters and groans of shifting tunnels were the only things he heard. Thankfully, they were all in the distance. Nothing was in his corridor. Nothing he could hear, anyway. He knew that death could come in half a second. He half-wished it would. Despite the silence in his tunnel, beside his panicked footfalls, he didn't stop running.

Just then, his foot jammed against something. He went down hard, stifling a scream that would surely only give away his position. He landed on his right side, his one good eye in a pool of water.

He yelped and dragged himself to his knees. The constant, unbearable pain in his left eye had been there ever since he made his escape. Why had she done it? He'd spent years in this darned maze searching for his mother. But their conversation had ended with a knife and a scream and him running away, back into the maze where he'd swore he'd never go again.

He gasped, staring at his reflection. He'd been stealing food to survive, popping out of the maze for short periods of time and always enjoying it.

The face who stared back at him was thin and desperate. Pain and fear was the only thing on the features and lingering in the right eye. Everything was in black and white. The right side of his face shimmered wetly with tears and water, where all the dirt had been washed off by his fall. That side was white. The left side was black, caked with dirt and blood. His fingers were black, too. Solid black. That was a lot of blood. He felt it pooling in his palms again.

He hoped. He hoped that his mother had missed. Head wounds bled a lot, right? She could've hit his cheek really deep instead.

_Hope is useless,_ her words echoed in his head. _It gets you nowhere. Hope cannot balance the evil being done! _

_But I want to do more than hope!_ He'd begged her. _Help me help you! _

Her smirk showed white though her long black hair and dark eyes. _Balance, child balance. You shall have the fate you wish. If you want to be careless, then fine. But it's an eye for an eye, my son._

He flinched, remembering the knife's evil glint so close to his face. It had hurt so bad, so much more than anything else he'd seen before.

He stared at his reflection determinedly. Who knew how old his mother was? Three thousand years at least. No way she could still aim right.

He slowly took his hands away, letting the blood fall freely onto the ground. It splattered on the stone and dirt, on his knees, into the water, blooming across the image like spilled ink. It clouded and blurred the bottom of his reflection. But it didn't disturb the image of his face.

Go figure. The one part he wished to erase.

Where his left eye had once been was a mess. Blood and darkness was all he could see in its place. Torn skin ringed the edges. It hurt like all heck, and all the more now that he saw the wound.

She hadn't missed.

Dead on. Perfect balance. Just like she'd said. Just like he'd begged for.

Just not the right kind.

He stared at his reflection, jaw dropped. He could only stare. He couldn't move. As the tunnels groaned and shifted around him, he sat there like a dead duck and stared.

Impossible. Unbelievable.

He glanced over his shoulder, not bothering to cover his face again. There was no eye left to save. He could hear a slithering sound now, not far down the tunnel. He'd have to act fast if he wanted to live.

If.

He glanced down at his bloodied hands. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and hid along the side of the tunnel. A large diamondback rattlesnake slipped by. Its head alone was the size of minivan.

His fingers clenched a cold cloth and slowly dragged it out of his pocket. The snake's head turned and its tongue flicked, scenting the air. It licked the ground before the puddle, tasting his blood. It hissed and raised its head again, still searching for him. It would attack any prey it could. It already knew he was wounded and scared – he was its next target.

He stared down at the cloth in his fingers, blinking his right eye. He wasn't sure of the proper healing techniques. His eye – his face – hurt really, really bad. Black spots danced across the remains of his vision. He was starving and thirsty and weak. He was convinced he'd be better off if the snake ate him now. Perhaps that was the cruel fate his mother had given him, although he didn't see how balance fit into that at all.

As he stared at the cloth, though, he began to wonder. This was the last thing his mother had given him. She'd given him his fate, taken his eye, then given him this. Why would he need an eye patch if he was going to die, anyway?

He'd spent all this time in that dreaded maze to have a fate worth living for. The cost had been higher than he'd ever expected. Not just the years and his eye – he'd never trust anyone again. Not after what his mother had done. He'd never be the same. But this was what he'd fought for, and we wasn't about to give it up.

He sighed. The snake paused at the sound, but he was no longer worried. He reached behind his head and secured the eye patch into place, tying it firmly like the knot itself was sealing his fate. He opened his right eye and glared at the snake, a snarl curling his lips. Violence didn't bother him anymore.

From around his waist he drew a sword. It was a bright golden color and glowed, shedding an eerie light on his bloody face and immediately attracting the attention of the snake. The creature drew back, then hissed and waited for the first sign of movement.

The sword glimmered in the low light. The tunnels groaned louder and its light reflected in his eye. A name was carved at the blade's base, in a language not English. The sword threw light against his dark hair and highlighted his smirk as a new fire danced in his eye, one that had nothing to do with the sword.

The snake hissed and made its own evil smile, slowly inching forward. Its tongue flickered back and forth and it showed its fangs, which glinted dangerously in the sword's light.

The boy, only thirteen years old, raised his sword. The snake tensed as he braced his foot against the wall, ready. Its beady eyes settled squarely on his face.

At the exact same moment, they lunged for the kill.

AN:

Nyx: YES! IT'S UP!

Nic: Ethan!

Nyx: Hello, people of ! First of all I'd like to apologize for it taking so long for this to finally show up. You will quickly learn that I am not a patient person. You won't be either, hopefully, once this gets underway. I've been working on this for over two years with my friend Nic. Secondly I'd like to inform you that I am dancing in my seat because I am too excited to sit still. I'm more excited than a starving hellhound in a room full of free hotdogs. There are no words for this.

Nic: I could name a few.

Nyx: Next I would like to say that my name, though also that of the Greek goddess of night, has no reference to this story whatsoever. I was going to go by Mari, and I tried, but I could not bear to see this published under a different name. Nyx is my pen name and always will be, from my artwork to my stories. For anyone interested the name comes from a different story Nic and I write, one that's not a fanfiction, and will become published one day.

Nic: You're rambling.

Nyx: I have too much to say! I've waited two years! Anyway, thank you SO MUCH for all of you who never lost faith in us. I promise you all I'll make it worth the wait. As far as those of you wondering about the character POV swap, maybe even disappointed, do not worry. We will still see PLENTY of Hunter and her humor and even her thoughts, because as you may have guessed, she is not a quiet person.

Nic: Thanks!

Nyx: No problem. Now as I wrap this up I have one thing left to say. To all my competition out there… Nico is mine. _Mine._ Discussion OVER!

Nic: *facepalm*

Nyx: Really? And there's nothing you'd like to say?

Nic: You kidding? Of course! ETHAN'S MINE, B-

Nyx: Don't finish that sentence.


	2. Massacre

DISCLAIMER: We do not own the PJatO or Heroes of Olympus series. They belong to Rick Riordan. We own Bree, Hunter, and Brook. The rest (can you count the miscellaneous demons?) belong to Rick Riordan.

NOTE: For those of you who have read Daughter of Time, the chapters in Daughter of Darkness are longer. This contains what was two chapters from Hunter's POV. I advise you do not skip it because you think you've read everything.

_***begin***_

_Bleep! Bleep! Bleep! _The alarm clock blared, shrill and demanding. "Ugh," I said, turning over and burying my face in the pillow. "You get it."

I heard my cousin Hunter climb out of the bunk beneath me and scrabble over to the alarm clock, mercifully making it stop. "Okay. Up, up, up! Come on, guys," she said.

"No," I moaned, and put the pillow over my head, the sheets scratching my face. I heard Hunter shuffling, and a small _clunk, clunk,_ sound. _What is she __**doing?**_

I didn't hear Hunter climb up the ladder. She is creepy that way, moving so silently. Or maybe I fell asleep again. But, next thing I knew, there was a large _SPLASH!_ Ice-cold water, complete with the ice cubes, was dumped all over me, soaking through the pillow and my pajamas. "AAH!" I shouted, sitting bolt upright and hitting my head on the ceiling.

Hunter burst out laughing and jumped behind Brook's bed, who had managed to stay asleep until that point.

I leapt off my bed, not caring about the ladder, and grabbed the nearest throw-worthy object – a fat Social Studies text book.

My arm flew back, then forward in an effortless throw, despite how heavy the book was. Unless Hunter could magically shrink, it would hit her in the face. Probably break her nose, and the three of us would get expelled. Again.

Hunter shrank back. Then, the weirdest thing happened. The book froze. Literally, froze. The pages were still twisted in the wind of flying forward, suspended in midair. If it were hanging from a fishing line, it would have gone limp and swung back and forth. This was different, like someone being touched by _it _in freeze tag. Only the book was not balancing on the ground like a person would.

Everyone stared at it for a moment, then the book dropped to the floor and stayed there. Brook and I exchanged looks, her face mirroring the question in my mind. _Can you please explain how in the world you just did that? _Only I hadn't done it. I think.

Brook must've realized I had no clue why the book had been stuck, so we both turned to Hunter. She was staring wide-eyed at the book on the floor, thin pages crumpled beneath the weight of the paper and hard cover.

"Um… dibbs on the bathroom," she said, and bolted for the door. Brook and I just stared after her, then turned to each other. Eventually, we decided that we better hurry and get dressed. At Pacific Academy, if you were late and the older kids didn't kill you, the teachers probably would.

I opened my dresser, trying desperately to forget the morning's events so far. Yet again, I had to speculate on them. Mostly, it was a normal routine. Made Hunter get the alarm clock, check. Got dumped on by ice water, check. I should've seen it coming; she had an ice bucket under her bed at all times for that very purpose. Woke up Brook while attacking Hunter, check. Hunter had somehow avoided trouble, check. Only this time, avoiding trouble was different.

I look at my clothes. They all looked the same. You didn't need any outfit for Pacific Academy, but I liked to wear the same thing. So I had plenty of solid black jeans, several purples t-shirts, a black jacket, and a pair of black sneakers with a purple design. I also had a pair of black snow boots for when winter came.

Hunter stepped out of the dorm's bathroom, dressed and hair brushed. She was very pretty. She had fair skin, and golden brown hair. Really long golden brown hair. Some of it was messy bangs, with two little groups hanging down to cup her face like you saw in several manga drawings. There were two more layers to her hair, one just to her shoulders and one to the small of her back. How she kept it neat, I was not sure.

But that was not the biggest factor about Hunter. Her piercing gold eyes changed shade based on her mood. Nice dark pools when she was relaxed, sharp and bright when she was angry or alert. She could stare down any kid or teacher in the academy.

Brook and I turned to face her. My foot tapped impatiently. She knew what we were waiting for.

"I don't know. I felt a tug in my gut, and it froze, okay? I am just as freaked as you are," she said. She certainly sounded freaked.

I nodded, trusting my cousin. We were closer than sisters. And she would not lie to me, especially in front of Brook, the small ten year old brunet that shared the dorm with us. None of us knew why we were here, or even our last names. The school didn't, either. We knew we were cousins, though. Hunter's dad, whoever he was, had left a note for the school.

I stepped around her into the bathroom, not saying a word. Before I left, I looked at myself in the mirror. My name is Brianna, but I like to be called Bree. I have waist-length hair, and a long side bang that covered my right eye, nearly the whole right side of my face. My hair is black, but if you look at it closely it looks more like a dark purple. Don't ask me why, but it's my natural hair color.

My skin is a deathly color, so pale you could expect to see right through it. I have a few dark freckles across my cheeks and nose. I had a bit of acne in the place the Nurse Kelly called the 't-zone'. Not much, though. I was lucky.

My eyes were the same color as my hair. The purple was a little more dominant there, but sometimes, in the shadows, it would look like I had a huge pupil and no iris. It scared Brook. Not by much, though. She was a tough little kid, and very mature. She looked older than ten, too. Besides her height, it looked like she was in eighth grade rather than fifth.

Sometimes, when I was mad, Brook and Hunter swear that they saw my irises go a full dark purple. No one else seemed to notice.

I ran a brush through my hair and stepped out, going for my jacket and sneakers. Brook was standing there, looking up at me with wide eyes. Her eyes were a pale blue-grey color, like two miniature moons. Her chocolate brown hair was messy, just longer than her shoulders. She had pale skin, too, but a healthy pale. Her skin would almost glow in the moonlight, and she could move very quietly and gracefully.

"Excuse me," I said, moving around her. She ducked under my arm and into the bathroom.

Once I had everything on but my backpack, which was the same color as my hair, I turned around to gather what homework I'd been able to do. ADHD and dyslexia made it hard to do what the teachers handed out each night.

I was stuffing my science binder in my bag when I noticed the time. "Crap!" We had five minutes until the late bell rang. Late for first period, check.

I had math first, and Mr. Kazit was very strict. I bolted out the door after Hunter, Brook on my heels. She was small, but she was wicked fast. She could beat a ninth grader in a race any day. It took about one second for her to pass me.

I yanked on my hood as we ran through the rain to the school building. My locker was right next to the classroom door, so that was good. Brook, who was in the lead now, ducked into the first floor. I ran for the third, Hunter for the fourth. I had mastered stairs a long time ago.

I yanked open my locker; the lock did not work. Someone had been in there – the stuff was all scattered as they could be in the tiny space. I threw in my bag and grabbed my math folder, which had a pencil in the crease. I ducked into the room just as the bell rang. I took the two necessary steps to my desk, the closest one to the door.

I looked up at the teacher's desk. We had a substitute. He was a tanned, large-muscled man with a buzz cut and shades. The shades were glowing red.

"Okay, your teacher wants you to take out your note books and solve 25y+17=242. Hey, kid in black, take off your hood," he said, glaring at me. Oops. I flicked it off with my hand. So he could wear glowing shades, which I expected to blow up at any second, and I couldn't wear my hood? Geez, excuse me.

"Note books. Come on, people! Oh, my name is Mr. Marz. With a z people, with a z," he said, smiling and clapping his hands once.

Notebooks.

Crap. I knew I'd forgotten something.

When Mr. Marz saw I was doing my work on a piece of loose leaf, he strode down the aisle, frowning. Or maybe it was more like marched. He had obviously spent some serious time in a gym, moved like he was the best man in Seattle, the city we lived in.

When he reached my seat, he tipped down his shades. "I know what you are, Bree," he said. I leaned toward the door, away from him. He did not have eyes. In the sockets were miniature explosions, what had made his shades glow.

"Um, excuse me?"

"I know what you are," he repeated. He pointed at his t-shirt, which was red with a large yellow 'M' on the front. "You know what this stands for?"

"Mental?"

He made a growling sound in the back of his throat. "No. It stands for _massacre_." With that, he walked back to the front of the room. I sat there, staring.

He had obviously been talking about violence. And he had no eyes. Burning, exploding sockets, that was all. And his name was Mr. Marz. I noted that it sounded a lot like the Greek god Ares in disguise.

If that stuff was real.

I continued with the class, hands shaking so hard I couldn't read my own work. I never looked Mr. Marz in the shades.

At lunch, I got taco salad without the chips like I did every day. I sat down next to Hunter, Brook across from us. Don't ask me why, but we met each other a lot during the school day even though Brook was in fifth grade, me in sixth, and Hunter in ninth.

Brook was jumpy. She stared at me with her unusual eyes. It was one of my favorite things about her, the way she could intimidate you as she gathered information.

I noticed that she was freaked out. She wouldn't touch her food, and neither would Hunter. No one spoke until sixty seconds after I arrived.

"I saw something," Brook said randomly. She was a quiet girl, but shared a close relationship with me and Hunter. "Our teacher stepped out after about an hour and a sub took over. He had a red t-shirt, with a large yellow M on the front."

"Wait, _what?!_ I had him first period, the first hour of school," I said. Something was wrong.

"I had him third," Hunter said, her eyes bright as the sun.

Maybe fire-eyes _was_ mental.

"He said 'I know what you are,'" I said, twirling my fork. I always had to have my hands on something. Especially when I was scared. "And he didn't have eyes. They were like little explosions in his sockets…"

Hunter slammed her fist on the table. "Okay, I've heard enough. Next time I see him, I'll freeze him like I did with the text book. I'll try, anyway."

I shrank back. "You know what else he said? He told me the M on his shirt stood for massacre. Do you want to fight him?"

"He isn't human," Hunter said. "And besides, if I manage to freeze him, then it won't be a problem."

"What if we're not human, either?" Brook said. See, this is what I mean when I tell you she could be a grade higher than me. "He said that he knew that I wasn't human, which sounds too close to what he told Bree. And I doubt he left you out of that, Hunter."

I stared at her. "… You're right. He doesn't think we're human."

"And what if he's right?" Hunter asked.

"Wait, you're not really considering that, are you?" I asked. "We are human. Two arms, two legs, two eyes, nose, mouth, hair, ears, hands, feet, ten fingers, ten toes. Human."

"He looked human."

"Until he took his shades off and started talking about stupid massacres," I countered.

"Look, are you going to let him roam freely on school grounds or anywhere else in Seattle he wishes?" Hunter asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," I said. "I didn't say that. But, let's hope that we are together when we face him."

For the rest of the day, I didn't see Mr. Marz. I stayed after school with Hunter and Brook to work on reading. Both Brook and I were dyslexic. Hunter was pretty okay at it, but she stayed with us anyway.

Afterward, we met outside the classroom as the teacher was grading stuff. "Look, I think we should check the building before we leave," Hunter said. "If we can stop whatever it is here, then we stop him from attacking Seattle. You guys with me?"

"Of course," I said, stepping closer. I don't know why, but it was like in all those movies when people move forward when they volunteer for dangerous stuff. Brook simply nodded and stepped up beside me.

"Okay, then. Let's stay together. This hallway first, then off to the next wing."

We checked the whole school building without being caught. There was an odd lack of security that day. Most schools were done with for the year, but we still had one more day of school. The teachers would pass out homework same as usual until the very end, and no half days leading up to it. We were three of the five people who stayed in the dorms year round.

"I think it already left," I said when they were done. "Come on, guys. Tomorrow our teachers will be back and we don't have to worry about this."

"But what if it decides to eat the people in Seattle or something?" Hunter insisted.

"There isn't more we can do," I said, gesturing around us. "The building is empty, and the sun is going down."

Hunter sighed. "Okay. Besides, it didn't eat anyone during class. Let's hope it moved to New York City."

We stepped outside and began to cross the courtyard to the dorms. There were several trees lining the sidewalks and all throughout the garden. Most were thin trees that sprouted pretty flowers. The one in the middle was a huge oak tree.

We were almost to the oak when we heard the motorcycle. I jumped, turning in mid air. Hunter and Brook did the same. There, at the edge of the courtyard, was Mr. Marz on a black motorcycle with red flames all over it. His shades were off, so you could see the small explosions clearly in the dimming light.

He pointed at the M on his shirt. "Massacre, like I said. Come out, my precious minions!"

From around the corner came the strangest group I had ever seen. They had green skin, and pupils sideways like a cat's. Their legs were snake trunks. Behind them, eight foot tall giants came marching. At the head of them all was a pale skinned girl, maybe my age. She was pale, like Brook, and had red eyes. Fangs glistened over her lip. Her right leg was made of bronze; the left was a donkey leg. I thought she looked like a seriously crippled vampire.

From my right to my left, Hunter stood, then me, then Brook. We grabbed hands to make one chain and slowly began backing toward the oak tree.

"Attack them. Kill them," Mr. Marz snarled. The vampire like girl in the lead turned and stared at him.

"But, um, Lord Ares…"

"What?" he snapped. "Are you deaf? Kill them!" He revved the motorcycle.

"Lord Ares, we will not turn on the older girl," the she-demon said.

The snake women hissed, showing their forked tongues. They were looking at 'Ares', as the vampire thing had called him, so I guessed it was in agreement. They probably had some serious speech issues with those tongues.

"What? I said kill them. I am your leader at the moment, and I say attack!"

The crippled vampire smiled. "Yes, Lord Ares." With that, she let out a loud battle cry and pounced on him. 'Lord Ares' suddenly and quite literally out of nowhere had a sword in his hands. He took one swing and the first row of monsters turned into dust the color of Hunter's eyes.

"Let's get out of here," Hunter said.

"I couldn't agree more."

We began to back up quickly. Still holding hands, we were practically running backwards.

"Wait, guys, we're gonna hit the oak!" Brook warned.

Too late. We rammed backwards into the bark. I waited for it to scrape my back, for Brook to cry out in pain. Nothing happened. We just kept walking backwards. I dared open my eyes.

I expected to see 'Lord Ares' kill the last monster and come flying at us. What I didn't expect to see was the grand, black palace.

If only I'd known.

_***end***_

AN:

Nyx: Yes! This chapter was written two years ago but yay! Not my worst work! Alright, for those of you who'll follow this story I will post every Saturday. Posting one chapter a week, as per tradition, will take a year. I kid you not. So I will post two or three (more likely three) chapters every Saturday, usually early in the morning. I'm late today – when I say early I mean six. I cannot stand to wake up late because it shortens my day.

Nic: So just stay up later!

Nyx: Before we move on I'd like to thank our first fan/reviewer on Daughter of Darkness, Karode. You comment was so inspiring Nic decided to email me at eleven thirty-five last night to share it. But I can assure you that at eleven thirty-five my day went from awesome to seriously amazing. Thank you so much! I will take time to read all reviews and I appreciate feedback – if you send me a ten-page report on the pros and cons and strategies and criticism, I will LOVE you. Not as much as I love Nico, or my cat, but I will love you. Seriously, don't be afraid to tell me anything.

Nic: In my defense I was high on soda.

Nyx: I don't mind - I was high on chocolate milk at the time. Oh! That's another thing. The title of this currently shows up as "Daughter of Darkness Rebels," but that's wrong. For some reason the site cut out my semicolon. However apparently I can't edit titles and put in a dash. So it should be, "Daughter of Darkness – Rebels." Daughter of Darkness is the series and Rebels is the name of the book. Thought I'd say that just to clear some confusion.

Nic: As we wrap this up, once again, please review! We love you guys and your feedback. The first poll should be up soon, too, for anyone who's interested.

Nyx: Oooh! Favorite characters!

Nic: That's fine.

Nyx: Finally, I will find out! Who has more fans; Percy or Nico?

Nic: Of course you'd say that….

(Next time we promise these arguments/discussions will relate more to the chapter.)


	3. Long-Lost Relatives

DISCLAIMER: We do not own PJatO, HoO, nor the characters Kronos, Atlas, Percy Jackson, Nico di Angelo, Rachel Dare, Luke Castellan, and the Minotaur. Brook, Hunter, and Bree are the only ones in this chapter that are ours. We have no intention to steal Rick Riordan's work or characters.

_***begin***_

The palace was made of sheer, grand black marble. We stood in an open-air courtyard, at the edge. Green fire blazed in nearby braziers. We were in a higher wing of the place, and through the nearby columns – there weren't too many actual walls – I could see the massive continuation of the palace. It draped down a massive, steep slope like a massive black blanket over a mountain.

In fact, I think that's what it was. A mountain. The palace stood on a mountain. And we were near the top.

"Oh, good God," I moaned, shaking my head. "Does everyone else see that?"

"The pediments? Columns? Friezes?" Brook asked. "Yep, I see them."

"I don't pay attention to those words," Hunter muttered. "Remind me?"

"They're from Social Studies class," I said. "They were parts of Ancient Greek architecture. I don't recall the black marble, though…"

I took a deep breath, noting the setting sun to our right. It dyed the sky a deep red, like blood. The palace – 'castle' just doesn't seem like the right word – loomed in front of us, dark and threatening. Usually, the color black was comforting to me. I could concentrate in a dark room, see better without light. I could always rely on the color black to always be the same thing. No matter what dorm I was in, no matter what bullies I faced, the color I wore was always the same. But this was different – there was something about the place that was… alive. Alive with malice.

"Just back up," Hunter said calmly. "Don't go off the edge, but back up slowly. Don't take your eyes off the palace. There's nothing behind us but the edge of the mountain – the only possible threat is from the castle."

We were still holding hands. I squeezed Brook's tighter as together, we took a step back. Hunter's nails dug into my palm, her way of keeping me from freaking out.

Another step. Then another. The edge had to be close. I began tapping the ground before I put weight on my foot, just to make sure it was really there.

For the first time, I noticed that there were no plants to decorate the courtyard. The clouds were dangerously close. They were thick and dark, stained red by the setting sun. They seemed close enough to touch, swirling madly. But I knew it must've been an illusion of the failing light. Stuff like that didn't happen.

"I don't like this," Brook said. "Can we wake up now?"

"When I say so," Hunter said teasingly, and took another step back. But before she could lower her foot, there was a sickening crunch.

"OW!"

We all jumped and whirled around. My eyes widened and pulse quickened in panic. There in front of us knelt a man. His black hair was greasy and slicked back. He wore a camouflage outfit and had a rugged build and face. He held his arms above his head, around…

Oh, geez. The clouds weren't an illusion. They swirled down in a funnel, the end curving along his arms and back, like he was holding it up. Sweat poured down his face. I doubted it was a pleasant job. _Fun to be him,_ I thought.

He reminded me of a myth I'd once heard – about the Titan Atlas, holding up the sky. It was disturbingly convincing, too. Huh. This must be some Greek rally or something.

If I was so convinced, though, that it was nothing, then why did I feel like Hunter had dumped ice water all over me again?

The man, who was looking at the cold stone ground, snarled. "Watch where you're going, you stupid Minotaur. I told you last time; your hooves hurt! Son-of-a-"

"Uh, _what_ did you just call me?!" Hunter snapped, angry now. Her voice sounded like cold, sharp metal.

The man looked up at her real fast. "Oh! Lord Kronos!" His gaze moved from Hunter's eyes to her feet and back again. "Wow. You never cease to amaze me. I thought you were taking over Luke's body."

"Um…"

"My deepest apologies, my lord! I thought you were the Minotaur! And I was just surprised – you've been preparing Luke for so long-"

"Yeah, yeah, okay, shut up," Hunter snapped, lashing out with her boot again and kicking him in the shin. "Talk sense or I'll kick you harder in a much softer place!"

The man bowed his head. "Yes, my lord! Shutting up now!"

Hunter smirked. "I'm liking this."

"Percy!"

The cry came from down the mountain. It was a girl's voice, probably just younger than Hunter. It sounded… normal, aside from the panicked part. Unlike anything we'd seen all day.

It was responded to by a guy's voice. "Ow! What…?" He sounded in his late teens. His voice also came from down the mountain, not too far from the girl's.

"Luke is still alive?" Atlas asked. "Why would you leave him be if you found a different host? Why not kill him now? What use does he still have?"

"I'm sure Luke loves you talking about him like that," Brook snipped.

We were interrupted again by a new sound, a new voice. It was so loud I felt the smallest vibrations in the rock beneath my feet. "GET THEM!"

I shivered. It sounded just like Hunter, when she was ticked.

"No!" Another voice. Someone my age, probably a guy. There was a clap louder than thunder, and the ground shook harder. I stumbled, and Brook grabbed my arm for balance. Among the black marble erupted a new wall. It was darker, much darker, like a nightmare.

Then, next to the black wall, the marble began to crumble. It was a chain reaction, a domino effect. The ground shook harder, and the man next to us yelled in surprise. The metallic voice down the mountain was yelling and cursing angrily with words I won't repeat.

The man with greasy hair frowned. "No, that's definitely Kronos. That makes you guys demigods. Who do you think the mortal girl was? Probably the same one we've been tracking, seeing as it was Percy's name she was calling. I hate that kid. If I ever get free again, I'll do worse than kill his friends." He glanced up at us. "What?"

"Care to explain in more detail?" I asked. "I'm not really getting this whole thing. Like, is this a haunted house fail, or are you part of a circus?"

The man snorted. "Newbies. You're all idiots. Just wait. The lord approaches; he will explain it all to you."

"Who…?" I asked, but trailed off. Footsteps echoed up from the black marble pillars. About a quarter of the palace, far down the mountain, was in ruins. These footsteps were close, just out of sight. I watched as a guy came trudging up the path and into sight from behind one of the few walls I could see. He was tall, perhaps in his early twenties. Maybe younger. He had hair so blond it was almost white, and a long scar down the left side of his face. In his hands was a deadly-looking scythe of two metals; one gold and glowing, the other a dull silver. I couldn't see his eyes very well, because they were closed.

"Atlas, stop whining! That Minotaur is too stupid to understand you!" he spat in the metallic voice I'd heard earlier. I felt Hunter and Brook tense next to me at the sound of it. "_Damn _that Son of Hades! Who knew? I will be sending the attack group with Kampe at midnight. I won't be going; I've got to wrap things up here. He's been in the Labyrinth the whole time! I'll kill him!"

The blonde lifted his head finally, wondering why the older man had not replied. His eyes darted from him to Hunter, and with a shock I realized that they were a sharp gold. Black pupils and bright gold irises, just like Hunter's, now surrounded by white as his eyes widened. "Daughter! You've made it!"

Hunter's eyes widened, too, and she stepped back real fast, accidentally kicking the kneeling man again. "Dude, I am fifteen. You are twenty. Very doubtable that I'm your daughter. Don't you have some sort of padded cell to get back to?"

"Oh, this is not my body," the blonde said with a dismissal wave of his hand. "This belongs to Luke, the helpful Son of Hermes. I myself am actually three thousand years old. They call me lord Kronos, all-powerful king of the Titans." He beamed stepped forward proudly, an evil-looking smile on his face.

Hunter leaned back and raised her eyebrows, giving him a look like he was crazy and she wasn't sure what to do. I glowered at him. "Look, I don't know who you really are, but Kronos doesn't exist. He's a myth. The three-thousand-year-old-Titan-lord-mess-with-time Kronos, anyway. And most guys named Kronos nowadays tend to be rare."

He turned his sharp golden gaze to me. I tensed, as if this in itself was a hidden attack. The scowl of his face revealed a normal set of human teeth. But why did I feel like he had fangs? "Do not talk back to me, mortal," he spat. The sound of his voice sent shivers down my spine.

"Don't talk to her that way," Hunter snapped.

"Then she won't talk to me that way," the blond countered calmly. His golden eyes darted around, analyzing every last thing he saw about us.

I sighed. I wasn't about to trust anything in this new, whacked-out world. I just wanted to go back to a normal life. Well, normal for me. I'd love to wake up to Hunter's same old ice bucket. I was sick and tired of this senseless dream.

One problem with that theory;

I was already awake.

"You said something about a different body," Brook remembered, staring at Kronos the same way he was at us. "That isn't possible, nor is the fact that you're three thousand years old."

"But it is," he crooned, smiling. "You have much to learn, children."

"Three thousand years? That explains why you're slow," I muttered before Hunter could. We usually had the same thing in mind.

His gaze locked on mine, flashing dangerously. A snarl highlighted his face for a moment and made his scar dance. Then there was only a golden blur as he swung his massive scythe. The shaft lashed out and knocked my legs out from under me before I knew what was going on. The breath shot from my lungs like a bullet as I landed.

Winded but not missing a beat, my legs swung out sideways. This always worked on the kids at school. I hit his Achilles tendon – once again, Greek Mythology. It was stealing my life – and he dropped. As he fell, he threw his legs high in the air and changed his center of gravity. He did a back-flip and landed on his feet again, perfectly fine, with his scythe pointed down at my throat. "Like I said," he went on smoothly, "you children have much to learn."

He drew his scythe in and I stood, glaring at him. "Look, I don't care who you are, or who you _think_ you are, but I'm done. I want to get back to our dorm. I want my life back the way it used to be. You obviously have no way to help me with that, and so I've lost interest."

Brook spoke up, eyeing his scythe nervously. "I'd like that, too. If you want a ransom, well… Long story short, there's no one to get it from." Then under her breath, so only Hunter and I could hear, "He's crazy. There's no telling what he'll do just for the heck of it. We've got to listen to what he says, or we could wind up dead."

"I'm not crazy," the blonde said, hearing her easily. "But very true, without me you will wind up dead. They'll come after you. Ares already has, hasn't he?"

My heart beat faster. Ares. That's what the vampires had called that weird fire-eyed creature. Ares, after the God of War from Ancient Greek Mythology. This man was Kronos. And heck, we'd already met Atlas. It made sense. It all clicked.

Except for the fact that none of it should've been happening.

Weird comes naturally to me. Just not this weird.

"Well, we aren't going to stand here like idiots," Kronos said. No, not Kronos. Blonde. That's what I was calling him. By no means was I giving in to this insanity. _His_ insanity.

"Right," Brook said. "Because we're going to wake up with Hunter dumping ice water all over Bree."

The blonde smiled at Hunter. "Wonderful method. I'll try that next."

"Um… thanks?" she asked.

Kronos turned to Brook, eyes flashing. "Tell you what. You seem smart. And the other two trust you. How about we make a deal?"

She raised an eyebrow slowly. "Well? What do you guys think?"

"Let's hear him out, then decide what to do," Hunter said. "I'm sort of looking forward to the way he'll explain all this nonsense."

Brook nodded. "Me, too. Bree?"

I was aware of Kronos's sharp gaze on me, on us. He was analyzing the way we conversed, each opinion, each mind. Our strategies and reasoning. Just sitting there gathering information while we talked openly in front of him. "I think we have to listen anyway, as we have no clue where we are nor how to get back."

Lying was always a simple thing to me. Too easy to act, too easy to say what's false. I wasn't sure where I got the ability – I hadn't had to learn it. It'd always been there, as long as I could remember. Which may have not been that impressive – I couldn't even remember the years I'd lived with my mom, nor my mom at all.

In reality, I didn't give a crap where we were. I just knew we shouldn't be there at all. Anywhere was better than here, and as far as I was concerned I'd jump off the cliff and climb down to get away if I had to. If he swung that scythe one more time.

Kronos smiled. "Alright. A deal. How's this one?

"I will tell you everything. I'll explain what you've seen today. I'll warn you about what the future has in store for you and the choices you have. I can and I will willingly give you all the information and supplies you will need for whichever of those paths you decide to follow. Then I'll help you get home, wherever you decide that is. All you must do in return is hear me out. I promise, it's not the worst of deals to be made."

"It sounds too good to be true," I muttered. "Unless listening is harder than it seems." Which it very well could be.

"My interest is my daughter," Kronos snapped at me. "You pathetic excuses for demigods otherwise were dragged along. Do not wear out your use. Be smart, like Brook."

Oh, great. Now he knew our names. I couldn't remember if we'd said them in front of him or if we hadn't. I wouldn't be surprised if he knew anyway.

Brook and Hunter, however, were slowly nodding. "It sounds fair and simple," Brook said smoothly. She was tricky, too. "We'll hear you out."

Kronos gave us an evil smile. "Perfect. That's all I need. Now, if you'd please follow me, we can start our discussion."

_***end***_

AN:

Nyx: Okay, this scene was really meant to build suspense for those who have read PJatO, draw our characters into the story, and begin an explanation on those who haven't read PJatO. Yes, some people we know like to read this and have no idea who Percy Jackson is.

Nic: It's also meant to show us a bit more of Kronos's thoughts, opinions, and how he managed to grab a few followers. The majority of his demigods served him because he used their hate of the Olympians to his advantage. Here we see him taking advantage of their cluelessness.

Nyx: You know what my favorite part was? Abusing Atlas.

Nic: Mine, too. And the fact that Kronos didn't really care.

Nyx: We also have the first confirmation of Hunter's parentage, if nobody has guessed it yet! Daughter of Kronos!

Nic: Now what would you say if we told you there's more to it than that?

Nyx: Read to find out! Woot!


	4. Special

DISCLAIMER: We own the characters Bree, Hunter, and Brook. All else, including the PJatO series (and Mount Othrys, for that matter) belong to Rick Riordan and we have no intent to steal any of that. We have no wish to mess with his awesomeness.

_***begin***_

We sat in a pavilion. The columns held up the roof. The fire in the brazier set in the middle of the room burned green, just like the others. We sat in couches that circled around the eerie blaze. Hunter and Brook sat across the fire from me. Kronos sat on the couch between us.

"I'm sure you are all intelligent kids," he said, "but do try to keep up. This is difficult at first for anyone who is – or thinks they are – human."

"Our grades look crappy," I objected. "Schools don't think we're smart."

"No," he agreed. "But just because someone or some society has an opinion does not mean they are right. I imagine you have been tagged with ADHD and dyslexia, yes?"

"Stalker," I muttered.

"Do not talk back to me," he growled. "You promised to hear me out."

I snapped my jaw shut, glaring at him. If he wanted me to listen, he'd start talking.

"Now," he said, "in order to give the conversation the best benefit, I need to know what you've seen so far today. Seen in terms of… abnormality."

He wanted to know what his bargaining tools were, that's all that he was asking for.

Hunter explained everything, starting with the textbook and ending with us overhearing what had gone down as part of the palace collapsed. "Then you showed up," she said. "We have no clue what any of it means, but… And normally we'd trust no one, but right now all we want is answers."

Trustworthy answers. And I did not trust _him_.

Kronos nodded. "I will not lie to you. Your old life will never come back. What you face from here on out, no matter what you decide to do, your life will never be easy. You'll be lucky if you survive to see sixth grade, Brook. As far as Bree, even under the protection of Hunter, I'm surprised you lived to see fifth."

"Gee, thanks."

"Hunter, I've always protected."

She blinked at him, and I saw anger gathering in her eyes. "If you are my father," she said slowly, "then great job. You left me at a school with Bree and a freaking _note_. Some protection. I thought you were dead or worse."

I frowned. Since when did Hunter get all emotional about… about anything?

"I did protect you," Kronos growled. "Why do you think you haven't seen monsters until this point? Most demigods are discovered at about age twelve. You're eleven, right, Bree? See, I kept track. Anyway, that's about the fifth or sixth grade range. Monsters come after you."

"Monsters? What kind was Mr. Marz?" Brook asked.

"He was a monster of a different sort," Kronos said. "Let me finish. These monsters – they eat humans. But they prefer something else. If they catch your scent, you are done for if you don't know how to fight. There are children – even with protection, most don't live to adulthood – that are different. I'm sure you know you're not the norm in the real world?"

"No," I agreed, eyeing his smirk warily.

He shrugged. "Did you recognize the monsters that came after you today? _Dracaena_ and _empousi?_ What are they from?"

I got an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew those names. I knew the names Ares, Atlas, and Kronos, too. But… It couldn't be real…

"They're monsters from Greek Mythology," Hunter said without blinking. "What's your point?"

"My point? Why would they and their leader chose you over all the other humans who were helpless and sleeping in their dorms? What does that make you?"

Silence.

"It means," Kronos went on, "that you are more than human."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I thought you were going to help us. This is not _help_. I've had enough of this 'more-than-human' crap. Did I grow horns overnight? No. Do I have webbed fingers?" I held up my hand to demonstrate, resisting the urge to flip him off. "Nope. I'm not going to listen to nonsense."

"But we promised to listen to him," Hunter growled through clenched teeth. "We've got to. We can decide later what we want. He's not forcing us into anything."

I sat back in the couch, staring at her. She honestly believed that. She wouldn't let anyone push her around or force her into something. If she listened to him now, then she believed he was okay.

I didn't trust him. But I trusted her.

A lot.

"Alright," Kronos said. "As Bree has pointed out, you certainly do look human. Can any of you name what you are, if we follow this Greek Mythology theme?"

Brook's eyes widened immediately, staring at Hunter and I. Her face paled and her hands began to shake. "No. No way."

"We could be demons in disguise," Hunter mused, "but I think we'd know if we were."

Brook leapt to her feet, already at a different and probably accurate conclusion. "No! It's not possible! My father would've told me!"

"He would have not," Kronos said. "Once you know what you are…" He shrugged. "It's easier for the monsters to find you. Do you really think it was a wild jackal that killed your father, or something more?"

Brook looked ready to hit him – she was rarely violent but good at it when she had to be – but Hunter pulled her back onto the couch. "Ssh," she said. "Calm down, Brook. As for you, Kronos…" Her voice hardened and she spat out the words. "Watch what you say. I don't care whether or not you like me talking back to you; I can and I will if you push me to it!"

"She hides a crowbar on her somewhere," I informed him. I was suspicious of the guy, but he didn't deserve _that_ particular treatment. "I'm not sure where, though. Believe me, I've been trying to find out for ages. I'd avoid upsetting her if I were you." I absently rubbed a spot on my side, remembering one of the mornings I was particularly stubborn.

He smirked. "That's my girl. Roosevelt had a good policy, yes?"

"The 'big stick' policy," Hunter agreed, smiling evilly.

I rolled my eyes. Of course that'd be the one bit of history Hunter remembered.

Brook was still glaring at him. "No. It's not possible. That stuff doesn't exist. I swore I'd listen, but I didn't swear I'd keep my mouth shut. I don't believe it."

Kronos shrugged. "Suit yourself. When Ares comes after you again, though, don't come crying back here."

"Ares doesn't exist," Brook said, "so I'm good."

"So…" I said. "…What just happened there?"

Kronos spread his hands wide. "Brook, do you care to explain?"

Brook sighed and closed her eyes, head low. "He believes that Ancient Greek Mythology is true today, right?"

"…Yeah," I said.

"Then the Olympians exist in his mind," she went on. "Just the way the Greeks believed in them so long ago. So if they're the same they were three thousand years ago, and we're more than human, what does his Greek Mythology-based mind think we are? What was Perceus?"

"A… A demigod," I said, eyes widening. "…Oh…"

"Yep. He's crazy," Hunter said firmly.

"It's impossible," Brook said. "We would've known."

"Oh?" Kronos said, raising and eyebrow. "How else would you explain the textbook?"

"But if I'm your daughter," Hunter said, "then I'm not a demigod."

"Technically, no. You three are… special."

"Wait, wait, wait," I said. "Hate to interrupt, but I'm a bit behind. Greek Mythology is… real? Or so you believe? You are Kronos, that guy out there is Atlas, and Mr. Marz is… Ares? That's our background knowledge?"

"Yes," he said. "That is true."

"Alright," I said. "Adjusting to the idea. Still not sure I believe you."

He smiled cruelly. "That's fine. You'll understand soon, trust me. Now, demigods are the offspring of one Olympian god and one human. Demigods were half-human. They were stronger, faster, had better senses, and some even have magical powers. And fatal flaws, may I point out."

"Got that," Hunter said. "So how are we different?"

Kronos shrugged. "Brook? Not so much. I've been tracing you guys since birth, starting with Hunter and then to Bree when their mothers introduced them to one another. Brook I've been following for a different reason, although she turned out to find Hunter anyway."

"Alright…" I said, processing this. "Go on."

"Brook is a demigod," Kronos confirmed. "Half-human. She's the most normal of the three of you."

"I feel special," Brook spat.

' "You should. You are nothing like what we've seen before. Your mother had you despite the fact that it broke a serious oath. You're the first and only of her children, and you show great power and promise."

"Okay," she said. "So who is my mother, if you've been stalking me for so long?"

He shook his head. "One more thing you won't believe just yet. But you'll come to understand. Your mother is Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt."

"Impossible," Brook agreed, sitting back in the couch with her arms crossed as if she'd won the argument.

"Bree and Hunter are indeed cousins," Kronos went on. "Their mothers were twin sisters. I'm not sure where and when they came from, but their births may have broken a different omen. Bree's birth certainly did.

"Anyway, their mothers were demigods. Twins. It's rare for that to happen, but it did. Their father was Hades, the Lord of the Dead."

"Hm," I said, wishing I had a memory of her to compare this to. It really, really didn't seem likely.

"So, are you saying our moms were like, zombies?" Hunter asked, confused.

"No," Kronos growled. "Although I bet they knew how to summon a few."

"You were muttering about a Son of Hades when you came up the path," I said, glancing in the general direction of the ruins where he'd come from.

"…Yes. He's an unexpected enemy. I don't like the unexpected. He's on my wanted list," Kronos said slowly. The knife in his voice was coated with ice.

I wondered if this kid was on the same wanted list that we'd been on, for all this time he'd been tracking us, or a deadlier one.

My stomach twisted. I really didn't like this situation. I was forced into something I didn't want to do – believe what he was saying. How else could all this be explained, though…?

"Never mind him," Kronos muttered, to all of us – including himself. "He's just one of my enemies – a crazed child who got lucky with his powers. I promise you are safe here. However, outside may be a different story, especially considering his past."

I shifted uncomfortably, still telling myself not to believe him. It was impossible. But a madman – or kid – with a gun was entirely possible. And not new to us. If Mr. Marz had us targeted, who's to say this other person didn't?

And who's to say Kronos was any different?

"Enough about our enemies for now," Kronos said. "We will cover them in a moment. But first, we should finish your identities."

Hunter sighed. "Alright. So, who do you believe we are?"

Blonde smiled. "Well, Bree – your mother was a Daughter of Hades. A Greek demigod."

"And?"

"And so what if she… hooked up with another Olympian? What would that make you?"

My blood ran cold, and a growl bubbled past my lips. "Impossible. All of it is. I won't believe it."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm tired of countering your smart remarks – don't believe me, and you'll die soon enough. No worry of mine. But you can't run from the truth. Your father is Pluto, girl, and you are a target to just about everyone."

I rolled my eyes. "See, you can't even follow the rules of your own demented universe."

Hunter nodded. "She's right. Hades and Pluto are the same person."

Kronos sighed. "This is information that most demigods do not have. The Olympians have different aspects. Different forms. They change between Greek and Roman, depending on what their mood is. Which they'd rather be at the moment. They seem to split their time two and two. So whether or not you count Hades and Pluto as the same person is up to you – there is no true answer."

"They're different people," I decided, figuring that just made the whole conversation less awkward.

He went on without noticing me. "The Roman aspects of the gods tend to be more war-like, more about business, progression, and conquest than the Greeks. The Greeks were more… well, war didn't matter to them as much. Believe me, they could fight amazingly. But they didn't always go asking for it. Their lifestyles were very different, too. Some of the powers alter upon switching aspects."

He turned to me now, rather than staring at the fire like he had been. "You, now – you are both. Don't you see that? You are more Roman, yes. But you have raised yourself around Greeks." He motioned towards Brook and Hunter. "You seem to be split evenly. I can see it in you – you show skill as far as war tactics go. It's easy to tell – though the wrong place here, it is a good thing to never trust on first sight. You can see when I am asking for information, and see how easily I can cover it." He smiled wickedly.

"So?" Hunter retorted. "So can I."

He held a hand up, signaling her to be silent and continuing to talk to me. "You all show promise in combat – I liked the year in Saratoga, when Brook fought that Jessie kid who was trying to fit you in a locker – and you, Bree. You offer a different style of combat to them, and they offer new tactics to you. Not only are you less human than a demigod, but you are a mix of both cultures. Two societies of demigods kept apart for centuries, and they come together not as a whole – we could blow up America like that, the way they fight with one another – but in a single person – _you._ And not just in a normal demigod. Not a demigod at all."

"So, I'm even weirder than everyone else?" I clarified. "I'm a… a freak?"

He smirked. "Yes. The first of your kind. You proved that it's possible for your species to exist, therefore giving us the opportunity for more. Not that I think the Olympians will reenact that particular scene again soon." He flashed me another sadistic grin.

I tensed, glaring at him. I proved that my species was possible – meaning I was easy to replace.

I didn't think that was a good thing. It made me disposable. And I didn't want to see his definition of such a word.

"That is the only reason I've watched you," he told me. "While you show promise, it is mainly your heritage that benefits me and my noble cause. That, and you mean something to Hunter. As of now, you are unique. But I suggest you wipe that scowl off your face, because I promise you that your individuality will do nothing to convince me to have you remain here, should you act up or talk back to me again."

I nodded, my eyes narrowed and pressing my mouth in to a flat line. He knew I had power. And he was letting me know that he had more.

His smile was intimidating. The air seemed to tense, turn to liquid around him. I'd previously thought it was just his personality. But now, I wondered. What if he really did have powers? What if I did, too?

I scolded myself. No. That was impossible. Magic didn't exist. Neither did the Olympians or Titans or monsters and demons. This was a lie.

He told it with equivalent skill to my own, too. But because I had the skill myself, he wasn't convincing me of much.

Or so I told myself.

"The problem with you, Bree," Blonde went on, "is your instability. Mixing magic powers of the two cultures can be dangerous. The Greeks and Romans, last time they were together, started a Civil War. You seem to be at peace so far – the general personalities clash as well as the magic – but as you venture into your skills and inheritance, we may find that it proves too much for a mortal. It may tip the scales and end up killing you." He gave me a deadly smile. "You're like a time bomb."

"Good to know," I said flatly.

He smiled wider, eyes flashing. "Good."

…Was that a threat?

He turned to Hunter before I could be sure. "You, though – Hunter, my daughter – you are the jewel out of the three. You have just as little human blood in you as Bree. Yet your inheritance is much more powerful. And there is no worry of clashing cultures within you, as you're purely Greek. More power, without the risk."

Hunter had already put the pieces together and was returning his words with a steely glare. "So you're serious. About being my father."

"Yes," he smiled wickedly. The knife in his voice was cold, and I wondered if it was naturally like that, it wasn't but he was sadistic with everybody, or if he just really hated us three. "Since Titans are more powerful than gods, you have more power and enhancement naturally. The Titans and gods, as you can guess, don't like each other much. But rather than being dangerous in you, like Bree's conflicting sides, the Titan side of you dulls the powers you've inherited from your mother a bit. Like two dogs trapped in a cage, shoving one another over to make room for themselves but never fighting over it. Does that make sense? And you still have some of both powers, though more Titan than Hades."

Hunter was slowly nodding, her eyes closed. "I see the logic you're using. It would make perfect sense – if any of it was real."

He smiled at her, like an adult amused at a pouting child and thinking about how one day the kid would grow up and realize how stupid they sounded. "It is, I assure you. Would I lie?" He spread his arms out in front of him in a helpless gesture, though the 'helpless' part was sort of hindered by the massive scythe he still held.

"We don't know whether or not you'd lie," Brook said slowly. "That's why we're having this conversation, remember? We had a deal?"

He sighed and considered her words. "True. Though I assure you my cause is worthy. The world and circumstances I have described to you are the basics – you can see how wars would ravage among our mythical ranks?"

"So I'm guessing, since this is a Titan base," I said, "that you're at war with the Olympians?"

Kronos nodded. "Precisely."

I frowned. "But weren't you the bad guys in the myths? And if the myths are true…"

He scowled. "I will let that slip, Roman girl. Because you don't know of our world like everyone else. But say something like that again, and I will have your head."

I seriously hoped he wasn't being literal. I flashed on Brook's warning of him being a madman. That was highly possible.

Kronos sighed. "Now, I won't even begin to explain this war to your prejudice minds alone. You will be more open and listen better if one of your own was here. You'll understand it. You've made it clear that you don't trust me entirely, nor yourselves, and that makes you hard to reach. But this is sticky, important business. I need to make sure you understand what you are, and what world you live in. You will die otherwise."

I glared at him. "I thought we were going to die, anyway."

"Perhaps. But if I explain this truthfully – and I will – and you are open-minded, ready to accept that times of change are coming, then your lives will have meaning. That is important. So I have an idea. I will bring in another demigod."

_***end***_

AN:

Nyx: Mmm, this week is done. For all the philosophers out there who are enjoying Kronos slick-talking our demigods, do not fear, there is another small chapter where you see how they learn about the war.

Nic: Enter Nakamura!

Nyx: Yes, in case that wasn't obvious enough. I enjoy thinking about how many layers to this conversation Kronos has going on in his mind, but in my opinion this is dragging out. I promise you next week – there will be ACTION! And horror! You will finally see our true minds – clever but quite twisted. As interesting as it is to dissect this conversation I really do want to see the action. It is always more interesting with Ethan around, anyway.

Nic: Of course it is! *Love you, Ethan!

Nyx: I believe we also learned their parentage? Well, the Olympians have always been into crossbreeding. Yeah, so that was a bit awkward. But I can't wait to see what the fans think – review! Let us know! Are you excited about the future? Did you laugh at the jokes, or did I fail? Any opinions on the characters? Are you also thirsty for action? Now that the base is set, we'll be on a roll!

Nic: Finally…

Nyx: Seriously guys, I promise this'll take off. I can't wait! *starts flapping arms and jumping from foot to foot*

Nic: What are you doing?

Nyx: Dancing!

Nic: *Joins in*


	5. Nakamura

DISCLAIMER: We are only fans of Rick Riordan's awesomeness and have no intent to steal any of his work! The PJatO series belongs to him. The only characters we own are Hunter, Brook, and Bree. Everyone else belongs to him.

_***begin***_

I almost choked. "Another what?"

He shook his head. "You heard me. Someone should be coming about now, anyway – we're late for dinner, and they can't start without me. But I think they'll be, ah…" He trailed off, glancing at his scythe. "…Understanding."

"How many demigods are there?" Hunter asked.

Kronos shrugged. "Who knows? We have almost three hundred here. The enemy holds almost one hundred, if they even reach fifty. And there are several scattered throughout the world – fending off on their own or becoming famous. You'd be surprised how many famous people in history were demigods. George Washington? Son of Athena, Goddess of Wisdom. There are some of his half-sisters here with us now."

I shuddered. The idea that George Washington – even I knew who he was – had half-sisters alive _today_ and in the same place I was just seemed really, really weird.

Just then, footsteps echoed throughout the halls. I stiffened, growling and awaiting the approach of another crazy enemy. They echoed around impossibly, making it frustrating to pinpoint where they were coming from. They built in a crescendo as they got closer. I became more and more tense with each step. They were slow but steady, never wavering.

Until they stopped, right outside.

"Enter, Nakamura," Kronos said, sitting straighter.

I expected to see another demon. Something with a human face but sharp teeth and wild eyes and deadly claws. Something that wasn't entirely mortal.

My eyes caught movement across the room from behind a pillar. I tensed and waited as a foot appeared around the edge…

…And out stepped a normal, tall teenage guy.

He looked about sixteen. His greasy hair was uncut but not unkempt, his bangs just brushing the tops of his eyebrows. He had long legs and a thin frame, and though he wasn't crazy buff I could tell he wasn't weak. A sword hung in a sheath around his waist, his hands clamped over the hilt as he knelt down in front of Kronos and bowed his head. "My lord," he said without looking up.

Kronos nodded. "Yes?"

"Michelle and the others – they request your presence at the dining hall."

"Is the situation dangerous?"

I could hear the grimace in his voice. "N-no, sir. The Laistrygonians were hitting each other with… drumsticks… but that's not unusual."

"Lais-who?" Hunter muttered, eyes wide as she stared at him.

"Cannibal giants of the north," Brook provided, remembering the myth.

"The English translation is 'Canadians,'" Kronos added. Then he turned back to the boy. "Rise, Nakamura. I wish for you to stay and chat with us for a bit. I have some… announcements to make."

"Yes, my lord," the boy said – I was almost positive Nakamura wasn't his first name – and immediately headed for the last empty seat next to me. He seemed afraid to look Kronos in the eyes, and seemed nervous even around us normal humans – I still refused to believe any of this was real, much less that I was involved – but the firelight was enough to see his face by.

He actually didn't look that bad. I usually don't obsess over guys, but this one was worth a compliment. He sharp and defined lines along his jaw, cheeks, and nose. His eyes were a darkish green.

Then I saw the left side of his face.

It wasn't much different. But I immediately felt bad for noting his eye color, because he wore an eye patch on his left side. The edges were frayed, as if he'd lived with it for a long time. There wasn't any scar tissue – I was surprised, looking at Kronos's scar on the left side of his own face, that he hadn't lost an eye as well – that I could see and I decided not to say anything.

"Introduce yourselves," Kronos said, leaning back in his chair. The boy glanced at him nervously, but his gaze immediately darted away from the sharp golden glow of Kronos's eyes.

"I'm Hunter," my cousin immediately said. "I'd stick my hand out to shake your hand, but I'm in favor of keeping it away from the green flames."

Brook smiled shyly. "I'm Brook. Nice to meet you."

"Brianna," I muttered. "Call me that, and I'll hit you. Just call me Bree."

We'd have given last names if we had any. And though the state had given us several, we refused to acknowledge them. They weren't real to us. And our opinion, seeing as it was our lives, was the most important on that matter as far as we were concerned.

"I'm Ethan," the boy said. "Ethan Nakamura."

Kronos looked at him, then gave a pointed glance to the rest of us. "Well?"

Ethan seemed to understand what he wanted. "I got here earlier today. You might've heard the commotion."

"What went on down there?" Hunter asked.

Ethan avoided Kronos's gaze. "See, there was this blue plastic hairbrush-"

Kronos cleared his throat, cutting him off. "We will explain later, thank you." He fixed a cold glare on Ethan, who looked at his shoes.

I shifted, uncomfortable. It wasn't until then that I noticed Kronos was dressed in all white under… armor. As if there really was a war. Ethan wore a similar armor design over a simple t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers getup. I could see it in the way he held himself – it wasn't an unusual outfit for him. He was comfortable in it, just like he seemed to make up for the loss of his left eye.

Ethan glanced at Kronos again, this time managing to hold his gaze. "My lord, are they… new?"

Kronos glared back at him. "I've already explained what they are. But we're having issues of trust. They seem to trust someone… their own age."

Ethan looked at us again. "I'm a Son of Nemesis," he said. "Goddess of Balance and Revenge."

We all stared at him like he'd grown a third – second – eye.

"It's considered polite that when you give your name, you also give your parentage," Ethan explained. "I didn't say it earlier because I wasn't sure if you'd understand."

"Still don't," I muttered.

Kronos scowled at me. "You will soon enough."

Hunter spoke up, seeming to be the first to notice that we hadn't spoken of our heritage to Ethan yet. "My father is apparently him," she said, jabbing a thumb at Kronos.

Ethan's eye widened and he leaned back a bit, eyeing her with wariness and turning his head so that his right was facing her more.

"Daughter of Artemis," Brook murmured.

"Daughter of Pluto," I added. Ethan glanced at me nervously.

"…Do you know who your brother is?" he asked tentatively.

"No," Kronos snapped, interrupting us. "Nakamura, you're here to help me explain to them the modern conflict and resulting war."

I didn't like his tone of voice, the way Ethan snapped his mouth shut and nodded. I didn't think Kronos was going to explain things from all sides, and wasn't going to let Ethan do so, either.

"Well," Kronos said, leaning back in his chair and swinging his scythe absently. "Where should I start?"

"Three thousand years ago," Ethan suggested.

Kronos shot a glare at him through a forced smile. "Great idea, Nakamura."

Ethan nodded and fell silent again.

"Three thousand years ago, according to the pattern your insanity has fallen in line with," Brook said, steadying her voice, "you were chopped up by your own scythe right there and thrown into Tartarus – also known as Hell."

"And?" Kronos asked, not liking her intervention but seemed to realize that we'd follow her better than him.

Clever. He'd let her lead us into it, past the hard part, and then swoop in and take control. This guy knew some nifty mind tricks.

"And the Olympians took over, starting the Fourth Age," Brook finished.

"Exactly," Kronos said. "And they bred demigods often. But it's come to my attention and that of several others that these demigods, over the centuries, are not treated the same as they used to be." He nodded at Ethan. "Demigods and humans alike are mistreated under the Olympians' rule."

Ethan, seeing it as a cue to speak, fixed his eye on the fire. It seemed to show him images, memories rather than flames. "…It's true. I've seen their training camp – called Camp Half-Blood – and it's kinda depressing."

"'Kinda'?" Kronos muttered. "What does that mean?"

Hunter slapped her forehead in a face-palm. "Geez. You _are _old, aren't you?"

I stifled a laugh, along with Brook. I could tell by the tenseness in Ethan's jaw that he was biting his tongue. Kronos's eyes widened and slowly narrowed at Hunter, gauging each reaction.

"I am a bit out of touch with modern American slang," he said finally. "Luke is teaching me as we go, however. His mind is a nice resource when it comes to translations across time periods." He smiled smugly at the thought, making the scar on his face curve sickeningly.

"…Luke?" Brook asked nervously. The name was familiar from our past conversation.

"Later," Kronos said with a dismissal wave of his hand. "Nakamura – why don't you explain to them about the Olympians' summer camp?"

Ethan stared at the flames again. "It's a place for demigods to train. Monsters come after us all the time. And in a time of war, it's their base. It's nearby Olympus, which they can defend or get supplies from. Olympus is above the Empire State Building in New York City – Camp Half-Blood is about twenty minutes away on Long Island. The camp's cover is the Delphi Strawberry Farm. No human or monster can enter its borders without permission – we've already tried to weaken them once, I've heard."

Kronos sighed, but Hunter and Brook seemed to be eating up this background information. I didn't think it was necessary, as Ethan seemed to be just as crazy as Kronos and this Camp Half-Wit probably didn't exist.

Probably.

"I trained there when I was little," Ethan said. "I… grew up there. Didn't have much of a normal human life. But my mother – Nemesis, I know now – never claimed me. Nobody knew or cared who my parent was. Nobody cares about her on Olympus, either, because she's considered only a minor goddess." His tone had turned bitter. "I was sick of training for nothing. I never got quests, just like all the other unclaimed or minor demigods. Nobody cared about me. I never mattered. Not to other demigods, not to my mother, and certainly not to the other Olympians.

"One day, I found a way to escape. A way past the borders. I ran away and vowed I'd find my mother, exploring with dreams to find her."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up there, Columbus," Hunter interrupted. "Where was this escape? How to you search for someone in dreams?"

Ethan sighed. "You've heard of the Labyrinth, right? The big maze that was under the palace in Crete?"

"Yes," Brook said.

"Well, as you'll learn soon, Olympus and all this magic is tied to America. The U.S. is the central of Western Civilization right now, and so that's where Olympus and all this Greek and Roman mythology stuff is locked. Except Alaska, though – never go there. You'll notice, too, how much Greek culture is in American now. Olympus is above the Empire State Building. Hades – the Underworld – is underneath LA. The Lair of the Lotus-Eaters is in the Lotus Hotel and Casino in Vegas. So where is the Labyrinth?"

"Under the White House?" Hunter guessed, not seeming to really care.

"Yes," Kronos said. "Where else?"

"Um… Seattle?" Brook guessed. "Is that how the monsters found us this morning?"

"Precisely," Kronos approved. "The Labyrinth is a living thing, a maze just under the surface of the earth. It connects just about every place in America to every other. There are even a couple tunnels leading into the Underworld."

"I found an entrance into Camp Half-Blood," Ethan added. "That's how I escaped."

Kronos nodded. "We leave at midnight into the Labyrinth. We have the magic string that will lead us to the entrance at Camp Half-Blood and attack from there. We'll strike their forces hard, then burn the place down. That should take care of any stragglers."

"Why would you attack?" I asked. "I thought we were discussing the reason for the war."

"Right," Kronos smiled coldly at me. "Ethan?"

"What?" he asked, his tone becoming guarded.

"Why don't you explain to them how you lost your eye?"

Ethan's jaw tightened. I assumed that it was bad to ask someone something like that, just like I'd never ask a soldier if he'd ever shot anyone. It certainly seemed to upset Ethan.

"Are you sure?" Ethan asked through clenched teeth.

Kronos fixed him under a laser of golden fire, his eyes flashing dangerously. "It's quite a… convincing tale. Shows just who you can't trust."

Was I the only one hearing the threat in that last sentence?

Ethan looked at his shoes again. "I, uh, found my mom. I… asked her for something. Something that would help both of us. She agreed to give it to me. 'An eye for an eye,' she said. And before I knew it, she had a knife and an eye patch ready." He looked up at Kronos. "Would you rather me explain in more detail?"

Hunter was staring at him. "You wanted to help her? And she accepted it, but stabbed your eye out?"

"That much is fine," Kronos rushed in, interrupting her. "It gets the point across, I suppose."

Ethan relaxed and sighed with relief, shoulders slumping and his eye closed.

"…Why would she do that?" Brook asked. "That's awful." Sympathy leaked in her voice.

"Shut up," Ethan growled without looking at any of us. "I got what I wanted too, didn't I?"

Something about that sentence seemed a bit odd to me. He didn't… care? He didn't mind that his own flesh-and-blood mother had stabbed out his eye? Or at least he'd gotten over it. Her actions still seemed so unfair, though.

The other part of me agreed with him. Everything had a price. This one might seem a bit high, random, and irrational. But hey, that's life. Whatever he'd asked for, he'd gotten it. He couldn't expect anything more. So why complain?

I stopped myself right there. The train of thought scared me. Not just because of its general coldness, but because it came from me. Of course Ethan had right to complain. It wasn't his fault he'd even been born a demigod in the first place. I should feel sympathetic, even if he didn't want me to. I just didn't have to act that way to his face. He didn't seem to want sympathy.

"Olympians let their children die on quests," Kronos said softly. "Do you see the scar on my face? It is from when Luke dominated this body. He wanted a quest, so his father gave him one. But he didn't care; he gave Luke the quest of stealing a golden apple from the garden just down this mountain. It served no purpose; not like it was of any great value to him. And he failed, with nothing to show but this scar. He kept the claw that did it, though, and it's locked away in the Camp Half-Blood attic."

"…So, you point is that the Olympians aren't the best parents," Hunter guessed, raising an eyebrow. "I'll admit that stabbing someone's eye out is extreme, but you didn't exactly show up for career day."

"Well, I was locked in Tartarus. I protected you. I saved Ethan's life – my demigods found him in the Labyrinth and under my orders took him in. I watched after your two friends here. As for the Olympians… They kill their own children in thousands. Do you know that World War II was also a war between demigods? Zeus and Poseidon's kids against Hades's? They made an oath at the end of that war, claiming that they – the Big Three, those sad excuses for brothers – were to have no more children. They said demigods were dangerous, especially their own." Kronos leaned forward. "They blame it all on you guys."

Ethan sighed. "The Olympians do kill their own kids – it's even in the oldest myths. They treat us like they do their Cyclops children – Cyclopes are from one god and one nature spirit – they leave us out on the streets, out in the world, with no help whatsoever."

"There's benefit in experience, though, right?" Brook asked. "It was easier for me to defend myself in a fight after I'd been in a few."

Ethan glanced at her, his jaw tightening. "Say you gain experience in a fight with a couple monsters. To do what? Survive another fight. And another. And you guys – they sent Ares to _assassinate_ you. They didn't even give you that chance. There's hardly anything out there for us. But there's purpose here – spreading purpose."

"So you're basically saying," Hunter said, her eyebrow rising higher, "that we fight and fight and fight to survive – but go nowhere and die in the end?"

"That seems to be the only fate the Olympians have in mind," Ethan muttered, "aside from flat-out murder. Or some complicated game of torture – either way, it's not pleasant. We're playthings to them, and only half-worthy at that."

"Okay. So that's brutal," Brook said. "Why not protest for a reform, then? There must be something more, something big enough to start a war."

"Fool," Kronos spat. "You dare challenge three-thousand-year-old laws? It's pointless. But you are correct – there is more.

"It's actually law that the gods cannot interfere with their children – because they fear for their own safety in doing so. It puts the gods in danger of becoming more human, losing sight of what matters to them." He snorted. "That, perhaps, I can understand. Losing sight of what matters – that is troubling. But I doubt any mortal could do that to an Olympian, let alone a Titan."

"Other problem?" I reminded him, raising my eyebrow. Hunter glared at me for stealing her expression.

"Well, what about humans?" Ethan pointed out. "If they treat their own kin the way they do – and the humans mean even less… Most demigods are just accidents, you know. The Olympians don't care about humans. They, like us, are playthings. Hotels destroyed, cities demolished." His voice had turned bitter. "Even their own – all the minor gods and goddesses? Nemesis, Hecate, Erebos? Cast out. Ignored. Not allowed on Olympus itself, the city of the gods. The Olympians' whole rule is corrupt."

I was staring at him now. The expression on his face wasn't the mischievous smile that I was used to seeing on the boys his age at school. It was hard and cold, not a smile at all. His lips were pulled back in a scowl, white teeth peeking through them. Pain was in his eye, a cold, hard pain. But less pain than there was fear. Despite his hardened expression, the hate in his voice, terror was as plain as his missing eye.

Maybe that's when I finally realized it. My stomach churned. No matter all the mythology crap – either way, this was dangerous. As dangerous as the war their words were painting. Myths or reality, human or not, this was something to be terrified of. Anything could happen, I realized, and nobody would know anything. Nobody would know where we were or what happened to us. This very well could be a war.

And we'd just been thrown into the middle of it.

Kronos smirked at me, then stared into the fire again. Unlike Ethan, there was a smile on his face – a cold one. Something that belonged with the image of revenge and bloodlust. "I knew I was the last hope for your world. So I began to search for a way out."

"Last hope," Ethan muttered, too low for Kronos to hear.

Kronos gestured to his face. "That is where Luke came in. I will not share the whole procedure with you, as there are a few things I'd like to keep secret." He fixed us each under a cold, hard stare. "I am limited inside this form, but it's more than enough to wage war against the Olympians. I managed to gain contact with Luke, and we've been preparing for war for about three years now. But starting tonight, the war will be taken to a new scale. And a little over a year from now, we will finally take over." Ambition glittered in his eyes. "The Olympians will fall, and so begins the Fifth Age. A better age."

"And you need an army to wage a war," Hunter finished. "You are rallying demigods, I guess. Bringing them out of the Olympian's corrupt rule and getting them to fight for your cause."

Kronos smiled coldly. "Yes. I also have a lot of access to demons, and they're even more willing to serve. Wait until you see Kampe."

"Not just anyone can join, though," Ethan murmured. "There's a system. Most people have to prove their worth. We need strength in battle, not liabilities."

"And which are we?" Brook asked, eyes flashing.

"As of right now, neither. As you three are unique, new creatures to this world-,"

"Creatures?"

"-We will test your skills over time. No official duel or formal test will be held for you three," Kronos ignored her. "You have potential for strength. Besides, it would be unfair to you if we were to give you a normal test."

"Why?" Ethan asked, surprise tainting his tone. "Not that I question you, my lord, but…"

"It is a fair question," Kronos assured him with a warning glance. "There is much to learn with these three, and questions are to be expected. Answers, however, might be a bit different."

"So… unfair tests," I reminded him.

"Well, you three have never had to fight before. Usually that does not bother me, but as it was I who protected you from it… I had a reason for doing so. You're useful to me now."

"Most times an official test works fine," Ethan muttered, intending us all to hear but speaking quietly. "Most of our kind are already weeded out – those who can't fight don't survive. Not to say the test aren't hard, because they are – I nearly failed mine and I've known for my whole life."

"…Okay," Hunter said slowly. "So, we have Titans vs. Olympians. Right. Olympians have demigod and other mythical creatures, I'm guessing?"

"Nymphs. Dryads, naiads, auroras. Satyrs. Elephants," Kronos provided.

"Elephants?" I whispered. Ethan shrugged.

"Your side uses demons, you said," Brook piped up. "Define 'demons.'"

"Misunderstood creatures," Kronos sighed. "They are monsters from Greek mythology. Most do eat human and demigod flesh, yes, but they can't help what they are. That's just their natural food source. Technically, though, what defines a true demon is the fact that they can be destroyed, sent to Tartarus, and reform again after a period of time. The bigger the demon, the longer amount of time it takes to reform. Kampe hasn't been out since Ancient Rome."

"…So, in shorter terms, dangerous creatures that don't stay dead forever," Hunter summed it up.

"Yes. The Furies are demons." Ethan flinched at the word 'furies.'

"Pluto's minions," I remembered.

"Yes," Kronos said again. "Very good. I understand your choice is rather rushed, but you don't have much time. Should you want to know what the outside world is like before you make your choice…" Kronos shrugged and motioned to Ethan.

Ethan sighed. "I've explained before. Monsters just like to come and eat you. Or challenge you to test their skills, their prize being a meal." I shuddered. "That's the normal, easy stuff. But now the war's starting, things are going to get even worse for loners like that."

"Maybe the Son of Hades will get eaten," Kronos said hopefully.

"There's that, too – we were always told that the more powerful you are, the more monsters come after you," Ethan added. "Without Kronos to protect you, you three wouldn't last a day."

"I could!" Hunter defended herself, holding out a crowbar. I hadn't seen where she got it from. Ethan leaned back from it, eyeing it nervously like it might explode.

"Point is, no one is going to survive out there," Kronos said quietly, staring with amusement at Hunter's crowbar. "Things are too serious here for me to protect you guys like I have in the past. I'm afraid if you decide to leave and become loners, you will indeed be on your own."

"Open for anyone to capture you and force you into anything," Ethan muttered. "Some of the monsters here are also in charge of recruiting – _they_ won't have a problem issuing you a test. And if you fail a test, you probably won't be alive to try again."

"And I wouldn't do anything to stop them," Kronos said. "This is a deal I can only offer once. I'd rather you take it now, rather than wind up dead or trapped by the Olympians. We can protect you here."

"Protect us? Any way we turn, we're fighting. In an army, against demons, captured by enemies and apparently friends alike," I countered.

"What better choice do we have?" Hunter asked, a rhetorical question. "There is no protection for us. That's what he's saying, Bree. And we would be safest here."

"So he's saying," I pointed out. "I really don't mean to offend anyone, but I'd rather hear both sides of an argument first."

"So would I," Hunter drawled. "We don't have that luxury right now, though, do we?"

"Positive?"

"Positive," Ethan spat bitterly.

"You said they had a summer camp."

"More like a petting zoo. They train and train and never get quests to use that experience. No, they just sit there like livestock until there's a war. The minor gods and goddesses are treated the same way – even some of them have joined Kronos. Trust me, you don't want to go there, for any reason other than to attack."

Ethan didn't seem as intimidating as Kronos. He scowled just as often, sure, but he wasn't trying to manipulate us. Not that I could see. He was following Kronos's lead. However, he was part of Kronos's army – his opinion might be biased. It might not include full information, whether it was Ethan's choice to deny us that, ignore it, or because Kronos had misinformed him – I wasn't sure.

I sighed. "This is frustrating. Can we go home now? We heard you out."

Kronos narrowed his eyes. "You don't believe us."

"No, I believe that the wars are plausible. But the whole myths-are-real thing isn't."

Hunter was nodding along with me. I relaxed, glad to finally agree with her on something. "Neat freak show, and you're all real persistent, but if you slow down and think about it again it just doesn't make sense."

"It does," Ethan growled. "Trust me."

"You know what?" Brook said, standing up. "I think we're done here. You said you'd put us back in our dorm, right, Kronos?"

His eyes flashed. "First, it is 'Lord Kronos.' That is how you will address me, part of my army or not. Secondly, I said I'd take you home, wherever you eventually decide that is. And, before you leave, I believe I also promised you weapons. As I've already had them made, and it was rather difficult, you'll take them and like them."

"You'll have to accept it at one point, anyway," Ethan muttered. "You're one of us; get over it."

"No, no we're not," I growled. "Human or not, apparently we're not even demigods. We're _still_ freaks. I'd prefer the dorm right now."

Ethan's gaze darted to Kronos then shied to the floor. "My lord, is this true? Is she lying?"

"No," Kronos said cheerfully, a cold smile on his face as he stood. "Brook is indeed a demigod, but Hunter and Bree are both quite unique. Not to say Brook isn't, though, given her mother's broken oath."

"So I'm not supposed to exist, even by your messed-up standards," Brook stated. "Thanks so very much."

"Neither are they," Kronos said, motioning towards us. "Now, we're really running late for dinner, so if you'll follow me, I'll show you to the dining hall. I'll give you your weapons afterward."

"The dining hall? Unarmed?" Ethan asked.

Kronos shot him a smoldering look over his shoulder. "Yes, Nakamura. Do you doubt me?"

"N-no, my lord. I am concerned only for their safety."

Kronos's eyes narrowed. "You leave that to me, Nakamura. Do not forget who runs this army. I know what I'm doing."

Ethan gulped and nodded, ducking his head low and kneeling on the floor again. "Of course, my lord. I'd never dream of challenging you."

"I should think not," Kronos huffed, and continued walking away.

_***end***_

Nyx: Yay! Ethan!

Nic: Yay! Ethan!

Nyx: Okay, so this chapter is a tad longer than I remember, but I made it work. Yay! Oh, and you know what else I didn't remember?

Nic: Could be a number of things, actually.

Nyx: True, that. But my point is that I've forgotten that those of you who haven't read the authors note in Daughter of Time have no idea who we are! Oops.

Nic: You also forgot to name most of these books.

Nyx: I forget titles on everything! Anyway, who we are – Nic and Nyx, two friends who both love to write. Hunter was designed by Nic, who helped me design Bree, and together we helped my little sister design Brook. They started out as 'what-if' questions. And Nic suggested we take it to this.

Nic: You are welcome!

Nyx: So, together Nic and I worked on the plotline a bit. I was to write the actual story from Bree's POV, and her translate it to Hunter's from there. I had one manuscript (233 pages) done for Rebels. Nic's idea was better, so we scratched that. Wrote Rebels. Continued writing. To this day I am the one that writes what you read on this story. This version is actually fairly new – we decided to go back and do major editing, as the two and a half year old version was painfully scripted-sounding, and by major editing we mean rewriting.

Nic: Where are all my overachievers out there? Put your hands up!

Nyx: Ha-ha, very funny. Perhaps someone just feels passionate about writing and wants to make a career out of it.

Nic: And to whom do you owe all that to?

Nyx: You, Nic. Duh. Also my life a couple of times, I'm sure.

Nic: As for this chapter, it mainly gives insight to how Kronos's armies look on situations and, if you've read PJatO, how they differ from Percy's and CHB's gang. Woot.

Nyx: Please review! We love to see what you guys think! And stick around for the next chapter. Things start to… ah, heat up? As in a cooking fire?

Nic: *evil smile*

Nyx: *dark laugh*


	6. Freedom Fighters

DISCLAIMER: This is obviously a fanfiction, so obviously we don't own PJatO. Rick Riordan does. We own Brianna, the unnamed raven-haired boy, Bree, Brook, and Hunter. The rest of the characters (does the mass of random demons count towards any of us, really?) belong to the amazingness that is Rick Riordan.

_***begin***_

Hunter, Brook and I stared at one another nervously. "So… do we follow, or do we ditch?" Brook whispered.

"We follow," Ethan and Hunter said at the same time. Then, just Hunter, "He's offering dinner, guys."

"Which could be drugged or poisoned," I pointed out. "You don't know who this guy is! He could kidnap us!"

"He already did," Brook pointed out.

"He could kill us."

"He _could_ and he _will_ if we don't hurry up," Ethan growled. "Go – I'll guard from behind."

"Guard from what?" I asked, but Hunter was already hurrying down the corridor. I hurried to catch up.

"-Or he might be some mass murderer," Brook was whispering. "He convinces kids they're inhuman, leads them here, then…" She shrugged. "Who knows?"

"_I _know that it's no lie," Ethan growled, standing right behind us. I jumped, Brook stumbled, and Hunter didn't appear to be surprised. "Give it up and admit it; you're not human. It's easier once you get past that part."

"Yeah. Sure it is," I muttered.

We were quiet for the rest of the walk. We followed Kronos from a distance, about seven feet behind him. The three of us stayed close together and though we didn't speak we were definitely communicating. I shot Hunter a pleading look and she shrugged, cocking her head and raising an eyebrow to indicate Kronos in front of us. Brook made a signal for us to stop, because she noticed Ethan was watching.

I grit my teeth to keep from cursing. Not only could he see any form of communication, he had a sword. And he was _behind me._ It didn't calm my nerves.

Brook had been right about keeping cool, though. I put on my skeptical face and stood straight, walked calmly. Hunter kept her head slightly cocked and a small smirk on her face, scheming away. Brook widened her eyes and stayed strictly close to us to create a young, innocent look. I trusted her – no matter what I felt inside, I had to keep it there and not let anyone know. Aside from them, of course.

The only thing I was really sure of was that we had to get out of here. It was a strange place filled with strange people and… other things. Like the sky swirling down. The black wall that had crumbled part of the palace. Things that almost seemed to back up Kronos's wild theory. Things that shouldn't be happening. And there was this really bad smell that was starting to drift through the place that made me gag.

It got stronger and stronger as we went. Brook held her nose and waved her hand in front of her face. Hunter hid any reaction she might've otherwise showed. Ethan cleared his throat. And Kronos didn't seem to be hiding a reaction like I knew Hunter was but as if he wasn't bothered at all.

As it turns out, that stench was the food in the dining hall.

It was a disgusting smell. Worse than the food and trash at all the schools I'd been to before (and I've been to places where even the lunch ladies couldn't identify what was on your tray.) I couldn't decide if it was foul or just sickly sweet. Either way, it choked me like a thick mist, smothering my nose and mouth so that it was hard to breathe even if I dared the stench.

Kronos stopped at a large pair of double doors to our left. He reached out to them but hesitated as something from inside smashed into it, making them shudder. A lot of loud noise was coming from inside.

When whatever was against the door had moved, Kronos calmly reached down and began fiddling with a lock.

"Close your eyes," Ethan whispered.

I wish I'd listened.

None of us closed our eyes when Kronos opened those doors. Not even Brook. And, even for her, that was impressive.

The first thing I notice was the demons. They were everywhere. The vampire-like monsters, the snake-ladies, the giants, and so many more. Some looked part human. Half human and half insect. Half human and half… I don't even know what. There were Cyclopes, too. And so many other monsters. It was a huge, huge room, packed with them. They were on tables, on the floor, on broken tables, hiding in a corner. Everywhere.

They were eating – that's the next thing I realized. It was some sort of feeding frenzy. The room was filled with the sound of clacking teeth, the sharp sound of fangs. They clearly had no table manners, as it seems they had been the ones to _break_ the tables. It was insane. The one in the corner was growling at whoever and whatever came near, hiding its food behind it then turning around to wolf it up again. Towards the center of the room, several fights had broken out over scraps of meet. Boiling green… stuff… littered the floor. It took me a moment to realize that it was monster blood. There was a lot of yellow powder, too, dusting the place and sticking to the blood and adding to the mess.

The monsters didn't pay any attention to us. Many were still too busy fighting with tooth and claw, others completely ruled by their food. This was not a cafeteria. This was a battlefield.

That's when I finally realized what the smell came from.

I didn't really get what they were eating, other than that it was meat. They ate it off bones and off the floor and walls and whatever surface it just so happened to be on. The nearest one seemed to be holding a large ball, licking it up with a forked tongue. A nearby she-demon saw it and lunged at him, pinning him to the floor and hissing like mad. The ball of meat rolled in our direction and stopped at the toe of Hunter's boot.

My blood ran cold. The roaring noise of monsters fighting and scavenging for food vanished. For a moment, everyone else did, too, and I was alone. Just staring at the monster's discarded meal.

It wasn't a ball. It was a head. A human head, most of the flesh eaten away until you could see the shining white skull underneath.

"….Oh," I said, finally realizing what Ethan had meant.

Something grabbed my arm and I jumped out of my thoughts. It was only Brook, though. She held my arm tight but didn't hide, staring with wide eyes at the skull, the demons, their food, the whole room, all in silence.

Hunter let out a long, heavy breath. "…Alright, then…"

"But all those people," Brook protested.

Kronos looked at her over his shoulder. "All those people would've been killed by the Olympians, anyway, if we weren't here to stop them."

Brook gulped and nodded, pinching her nose to block out the smell.

Kronos walked forward, straight into the thick of the frenzy. The monsters closest to him stopped, stared at him, and scurried out of his way before continuing to eat.

Ethan leaned towards us and moved to our right side, where there were more monsters. "Stay near me," he whispered. "With luck, you won't get killed tonight."

"Um, luck?" Hunter asked. "If we lay low they won't notice us."

"And if they do?" Ethan challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Hunter held up her crowbar and mirrored his expression. "What do _you_ think?"

He sighed and shook his head. "You're right, though; stay low, and they usually don't bother you. They try not to eat us from the army, but if you look tasty to them, they might just lose control."

"I see that," I muttered, watching the frenzy while trying to keep my eyes off the food.

"Um, are we supposed to eat them – I mean _that_ – too?" Brook asked.

"No. Most people don't usually have an appetite, anyway…" Ethan said, motioning for us to keep following Kronos.

"Wonder why," I growled, resisting the urge to hurl. The stench was really, really bad.

Kronos just kept leading us straight to the back of the massive room. Way back there, there was a long line of tables along the wall. The monsters stayed a good ten feet from it all around. On these tables was – or what appeared to be – regular barbeque, pizza, pasta, bread, and cheese. Filling up these tables were a bunch of kids – some in armor, some dressed like they'd just got home from school. Their ages ranged from mine all the way to what might've been even early twenties.

"You'll sit here every night at precisely six thirty," Kronos said. The kids nearby jumped and pretended not to notice. "If you're late, you don't eat dinner. Anyone who's tardy and not accompanied by me is fair game for the monsters. Understood?"

"Yes," Brook said. "Harsh but fair, I guess." She rolled her eyes at the last sentence, obviously not something she truly believed in.

"Ethan, I'd appreciate it if you helped them out for their first days here," Kronos went on. "Keep them in line."

"Yes, my lord," Ethan said, kneeling.

Then Kronos just turned and left, disappearing into the sea of monsters.

Ethan got up and sat down at the nearest empty seat. "Come on, guys. If you keep standing there some monster is going to grab you."

I hurriedly found a seat across from him. I had to climb over the table to reach it, but nobody seemed to mind so long I didn't step in the food that no one was eating. Hunter and Brook sat down beside me.

"This is wrong," I muttered. "You don't become friends with a guy who feeds his pet demons _human flesh_."

"They would've been killed by the Olympians, anyway," a raven-haired kid next to me said darkly. He glared at me.

Ethan sighed and nodded. "I guess that's true. Most of these monsters here? You see them? Over three quarters of them were once human. Like, not from the myths. They were humans of relatively modern ages who just so happened to accidentally upset one of the gods."

"I met one of those vampire things who was once a mother," said a girl sitting next to Ethan. Nobody seemed too friendly, but they all leapt up to defend Kronos. "She'd been the mother of two little boys. Twins, I think. They went to a community pool. She stopped to help one pick up nachos he'd dropped on the floor while across the pool, out of earshot, her other son drowned. She got there too late and the lifeguard couldn't save him."

"That's so sad," Brook said, picking up a loaf of bread and examining it carefully before spotting the monsters behind Ethan and set it down. She didn't look at it again.

"Not the saddest part," the girl said. "Hera, the motherhood goddess, accused the woman of picking favorites and gave her to Hecate, who turned her into what she is now." She shrugged. "They're people who didn't even know the gods existed. And they didn't purposely do anything wrong. But now they're demons who die and go to Tartarus and just come back to a sucky life again. Then they get killed…. It's just an endless cycle. We're more lucky than they are."

"But they're eating innocent people, too," Brook murmured.

Ethan grunted and stabbed his fork into the table, seemingly out of boredom. "The _monsters_ are innocent people. Not monsters, not demons. _People_. They're still as horrified as you are. But they're living inside those beasts. They're tasting that human flesh, smelling the blood, knowing they did it, and it's so much worse to them than it is to us. And as for the dead people, they're collected from science labs and mortuaries all over California. They're people who've signed contracts saying it's okay to use their bodies for science experiments."

"But this isn't a science experiment," I said, kind of disturbed that they thought this made it okay. "You should respect the dead, don't you think?"

"It was that or let the monsters hunt _live_ people. At least this way we're not killing anybody," he said with a tone that clearly signaled for the subject to drop.

Dinner was spent in an awkward silence. Every once in a while a monster or two would inch closer to us. Ethan or some other kid would draw a sword or spear or javelin, though, and the demon – person, excuse me – would skitter back to its place in the crowd.

The stench was hard to get used to, but it wasn't as bad as it had been when we walked in. I managed not to gag most of the time. People were indeed eating but didn't seem to be enjoying it much.

"Here," said the girl next to Ethan. She was friendlier than most, though not exactly the most forthcoming person I'd met. She held up this massive strip of meat as big as my arm. A giant bone stuck out of one side. "I'd suggest eating. This is the only time you'll get food until breakfast. Try this – it's a Laistrygonian rib."

"A what?"

She chuckled and set it in front of the three of us. "We catch most of our food. Kronos has people who cook it."

I glanced at Ethan, since he was supposed to be our guide. "Seriously?"

He shrugged, tearing into a steak like it was the first time he'd eaten in months. "Just eat it. There are worse lives out there." That was all he said about the food, but he cast the girl a sly glance. "And it never hurt to have Brianna on your side."

Brianna beamed. "I'm a Daughter of Aphrodite."

"That explains a lot," Hunter muttered.

"Who are you guys?" she asked.

"Brook, Hunter, and Bree," Hunter introduced us. She didn't give our parentage.

Brianna took it a different way. "Oh. Don't worry; you'll find out who your parents are soon. We'll make them own up to all the kids they've left on the streets."

"Hm," I said, staring at the massive rib. "What's the sauce on this?"

"It's sweet. Maybe they put nectar in it," she mused, then took a bite of what looked like mashed potatoes. But since the chicken wings the monsters were eating weren't really chicken wings, I wasn't about to jump to conclusions.

Hunter shrugged and, taking a fork, cut off a slice of the meat in front of us and fearlessly took a bite. "She's right; the sauce is sweet."

I sighed and took another piece of silverware, figuring that this piece of meat was too big to have come from a human, and took a bite.

_***supposed to be a space here, and this is the only way it'll show up. Bare with me***_

Kronos didn't speak until the end of dinner.

He stood in behind of the demigod tables about halfway through the room, evaluating the carnage. Kids started lowering their heads when he walked by, some sort of half-bow out of respect. Or maybe they were afraid to meet his eyes.

He stopped right behind me and I tensed, ready for whatever was coming. But he only asked the dark-haired kid next to me to kindly move out of the way.

Muttering a hasty apology under his breath, the kid jumped out of his seat and tried to bow and scrabble backwards at the same time until he crashed into the wall and decided just to stand there and pretend nothing had happened.

Kronos used his seat to climb onto the table, careful not to step in the food. "FREEDOM FIGHTERS! May I have your attention for a moment, please?!"

The demigods were already silent and staring. The nearest monsters dropped their food and stared at him with large eyes. But they'd get pushed or bumped or somebody would throw a piece of meat at them and they'd join the brawl again.

Kronos sighed and pulled out an air horn. "Every time…" Ethan plugged his ears. So did Brianna and the dark-haired kid and everyone else who noticed what he was holding.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Hunter said, jumping up on the table and putting her hand on the horn. "No way, dude. Unnecessary." Ethan took his fingers out of his ears.

"Oh, no," I said, motioning for him to plug his ears again. Brook and I did, too, knowing all too well what was coming.

"SHUUUUUUUUUUT UUUUUUUUUUP!" Hunter screamed at the top of her lungs. And let me assure you, that's well louder than an air horn.

Demigods cringed and covered their ears. A few must've assumed it was a battle cry or something, because they drew weapons or took refuge under the table. The monsters froze and stared at Kronos as if he'd been the one to call out.

Kronos sighed. "Thank you, Hunter. You should sit down now."

"You're welcome," Hunter muttered sarcastically, plopping back down in her stool and crossing her arms. I knew the look in her eyes – she was probably going to put tape on that air horn tonight while he was sleeping.

Down at the far end of the table, someone whispered something. Kronos shot a glance in that direction and the murmurs stopped.

A smile was on his face, but I didn't like it. It was too much like Hunter when she was mad. "Now, I know announcements usually happen before dinner. But you must forgive me – I had some setbacks."

"Setbacks?" I asked.

"He's hiding you guys," Ethan explained, leaning forward and whispering so no one else heard. Kronos let him talk to us. "Nobody will know you're here until you accept his offer."

"But everyone here knows. So it's like, 'No public pressure, but everybody will know if you desert, anyway,'" I clarified.

Ethan glanced at Kronos, nodded, and sat back down in his seat.

"I am aware," Kronos went on, "that there are several rumors going around. I'll address that here and now so any questions can be put to rest." His tone suggested bad things if questions continued. "First; there is a Son of Hades roaming the Labyrinth and recently allied himself with Percy Jackson. Unfortunately, that is true."

Monsters snarled and banged on the tables or their chests the way warriors might clash their swords on their shields. _He's nothing but a challenge to them. A meal. Something to hunt_, I realized.

"He is among the most dangerous demigods," Kronos went on. "Should he be seen I want to know immediately. The sooner he is dead, the better off we are."

It occurred to me for the first time that he was talking about my brother. A brother I hadn't even met, and he was trying to assassinate him. For some reason, this disturbed me more than anything else that night. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and hid behind my hair.

"Second; part of the castle collapsed," Kronos growled. "I figured you'd be able to confirm that one for yourselves, but it's come to my notice that people would like it addressed. It is a minor setback. Easy to rebuild.

"Third and final rumor; the attack on Camp Half-Blood scheduled for tonight has been canceled. And I'm glad to tell you that one is false."

"Yes!" the dark-haired kid cheered, pumping his fist in the air. The monsters howled and leered. Demigods leapt out of their seats and whooped happily.

"They're cheering about killing other kids of the same species," Brook stated flatly.

Ethan's reaction had been nowhere as dramatic as anyone else's, but there was no mistaking the genuine smile on his face. "You don't get it. It means we still have the upper hand. We're still winning the war. That means less casualties for us and, of course, we still have a good shot at bringing down Olympus. We still have hope of making this a better world. And yeah, lots of people have grudges to settle. And fighting is the way it's done in this world. I suggest you get used to it, or you'll end up in the mass grave we have out back. Survival of the fittest. Don't look at me like that! It's not Kronos being cruel; that's the way our world has always worked. Consider it a favor, him not cheating us out of the experience. You'll thank him for it later."

Kronos waited proudly until the celebrations had quieted down. "Alas, because of the damage done today, I must stay here. The attack will now be led by Kampe."

There were grumbles at this. Apparently, Kronos was better at killing people than Kampe was. They felt they had more of a chance with him there, I could tell.

"You all have your orders," Kronos went on. "Remember what we fight for tonight. I strongly suggest that you don't forget it."

The crowd had fallen silent. "Tonight will be a milestone in not just this war, but in all history." Kronos began to pace along the table. "Tonight we can finally make an open stand. We fight for what we believe in. And I think I speak for us all when I say we will keep silent no longer. But I will not pretend it doesn't have a cost."

He stopped maybe five chairs down from Brook, falling silent at that. "People are going to die tonight. A battle is not for the faint of heart. But those people are going to die for something worthwhile. They'll give their lives for us, for our purpose, and for hope that we will finally bring the Olympians to justice. They'll die for a better world."

He gestured to the wide assortment of monsters. "We were born into this world. It is our past and our present. Unfortunately that was not the best of times. We're all gathered here tonight because we have scores to settle, pasts we regret. But most importantly, a dream of a better future."

His head lifted then and his voice rose. "Our past and our present are indeed dark times. But our future is our own call! We're here today because we _learned_ from history! We can put a stop to so many atrocities that exist today. We fight to make the world a better place!"

His voice dropped again. "A place where people don't have to die for what's right. It shouldn't be that hard."

Silence. People were hanging on every word.

His voice rose again in a triumphant yell. He raised his fist in the air. "We're not giving that up without a fight!"

Cheering broke out all over again. Giants raised clubs or spears I hadn't noticed in their possession before. Demigods unsheathed glowing swords and knives and daggers. Ethan drew his sword again, a fairly long one with something inscribed at the bottom of the blade. He held it in the air and cheered with the rest.

Hunter, Brook and I stood up and looked around awkwardly. Luckily, no one seemed to notice.

Kronos held up his massive scythe, which made everyone in a ten-foot radius cringe and back away. He held it high in the air and screamed, "FOR THE TITANS!"

"FOR THE TITANS!" the cry shot back from the deep throats of monsters to the small throats of girls no older than I.

At that, the monsters began to charge out of the room. The ground shook at the stampede. The demigods all leapt up and followed, leaping over tables and rubble and the smears of blood on the floor. They charged and yelled as if the enemy were right there in front of them, the battle here and now. Ethan stayed behind with us.

I thought the eager charge would be bottlenecked by the doors, but instead there was another rumbling and ripping sound as the wall was torn down. They just charged on out. The angry crowd parted and ran down different hallways and slowly but steadily faded with distance. The cheering began to stop as people prepared for war.

"Idiots," Kronos muttered. "We'll have to fix that wall again."

"Again?" Hunter asked. "Why not just get rid of it entirely?"

"If they don't have the wall to tear down, they'll just demolish something else," Kronos said with a dismissive flick of his hand. "Well, it's at least good to hear you three survived dinner. I'm sure Ethan was of help?"

"Yeah," Hunter said. "He gave us excuses for this mess here."

Kronos frown at the hand she was using to point to the bloody mess in the floor. Ethan paled and stepped back, head low.

"They're not excuses," Kronos said calmly. "They're the pros. Better than going through the cons, don't you think?"

Nobody said anything for a moment. Then he just continued walking to the door, leaving us no choice but to follow. Ethan sighed and motioned for us to go first.

_***end***_

Nyx: So, where to start… Ah, perhaps the VERY brief look into our sick sense of humor?

Nic: Sounds fair.

Nyx: I didn't go into detail here. I wanted to so badly, but I had to keep it short and quite frankly I know not everybody would enjoy that. A friend of mine was scared reading this much. I then taunted her with, "The white bone shone like peeks of a white moon through thick, stringy clouds. Flesh clung to it in oozing, desperate clumps that-"

Nic: *cough* Teen rating! *cough*

Nyx: Right. As if teens don't hear worse in high school every day.

Nic: Apparently some people would believe that. Doesn't really change the rating standards, though.

Nyx: What I like about this chapter is the approach on demons. That they maintain a human conscious, at least for a short while, contained by monster urges and instincts. That human conscious probably goes insane and submits to the demon entirely after a while, if you think about it. I am proud of this idea.

Nic: I liked the sympathy story.

Nyx: Another interesting view on things. Now, fans, as you know – Nic and I both work on the plot line together, albeit Nic winning most of our arguments/discussions, so of course this isn't where it ends. Next chapter is what you've been waiting for…

Nic: Yes! So review! This is where Mr. Nice Guy ends, people! Tell us what you think so far, then read the next chapter. Then tell us what you think of that, because things keep picking up from here on out...


	7. New Toys

DISCLAIMER: Rick Riordan owns everyone but Bree, Hunter, and Brook! He also owns PJatO! We don't have any intent to steal his work. We might be stalkers, but we're not thieves!

_***begin***_

Kronos lead us through a labyrinth of halls and open rooms. I lost count of all the large black columns I saw. Braziers with green fire were everywhere, giving the place an eerie glow.

Finally we reached a large, open room with four walls and a steel door. On the inside of that door were a lot of ugly gashes. The walls were scraped and ripped and even burnt. The floor was solid concrete. But it had cracks and dents and chips. There were four red smears spread out over the room. One light bulb lit the whole place.

"What happened in here?" Hunter asked eagerly. I thwacked her over the head, not sure I wanted to hear the answer.

"This is one of our indoor training rooms," Kronos said smoothly, ignoring me. "Don't worry. The structure should hold. And if it collapses on us… Well, people have survived that situation before."

"Excuse me?" Brook asked.

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Just get used to it."

Kronos looked around the room as if evaluating it. "I told the telekhine to be here right about now. He should show up. They're excellent forgers, I promise. I asked them to make many weapons for each three of you, so you could pick the type that works best for you."

"How do we know what works best if we've never fought?" Brook asked.

Kronos smiled. "You won't know. But magic will."

"That wasn't cheesy," Hunter muttered.

Kronos frowned, seemingly greatly troubled by that. "How can words be 'cheesy'? Wouldn't that require a mouth full of cheese?"

We all paused for a moment, not sure how to respond to that. Kronos just kept staring at us as if he expected an earnest answer. "…What?"

Just then something knocked on the door, saving us all from having to answer.

"Just kick it open," Hunter suggested to whoever was on the other side. "I don't think it'll stay on its hinges."

Kronos sighed and pulled the door open, anyway. I could only stare at the creature standing in the threshold.

My first thought was an evil seal. Maybe if someone mixed a sea lion with a kid and a massive Doberman, you'd get what I was looking at. Cruel eyes, permanent snarl, strange claw-like hands that work like a man's. In those hands was a golden bowl filled with water, maybe the size of a litter box. The beast itself was maybe eight feet tall.

"Weapons ready," it said in a high-pitched voice.

"Wonderful," Kronos said, motioning to us. "Start with the small one."

The thing may have been kinda ugly, but when it walked it waddled like a cute little penguin. Brook's eyes widened and she stepped back as it advanced. But Hunter put a hand on her shoulder to keep her in place. Brook gulped and eyed the monster warily.

Silently, I moved in behind her and put a hand on her other shoulder and gave the demon the best glare I could muster. If he laid a claw on her, I'd bite back. Hard.

He held the bowl of water out to her as if he expected her to drink from it. "Here. Enjoy your new toy."

"My choice weapon is a bowl of water?" Brook whispered. I shrugged.

Ethan sighed. "Reach in and pull out the weapon."

"But there's nothing in there."

"If that's true, I'm the Trojan Sea Monster."

Brook sighed and reached her hand into the water. She closed her eyes, and to my utter shock, reached past the bottom of the container. Her hand disappeared but didn't show up underneath the bowl like I thought it might.

Then her face lit up. "I've got something!" She pulled her hand out of the water. And following, in her grasp, was the strap of a quiver. Silver shafts of arrows stuck out. The bow was hooked on tight. Polished silver wood, carved in elegant swirls that suggested a cool mist. Like the way the clouds frame the moon.

"Wow…" she breathed.

"Good luck using that," Ethan muttered. The look in his eye made it clear – he sucked at archery.

The telekhine grunted and turned to me. "You next. Take out weapon."

I sighed and reached in, closing my eyes. I never seemed to touch the bottom of the bowl. But the water was freezing cold. It got more and more so the farther down I went.

When I was halfway between my elbow and my shoulder I said, "You sure it's in there?"

"Yes. You use dark blade. Dark magic. Reach down before it ices over," the telekhine suggested.

I sighed and leaned into the bowl as far as I could. My fingers brushed something that was smooth but colder than ice. Immediately, I gripped it and yanked my hand out.

Immediately the telekhine yelped and jumped back. "Dark blade!"

"Gee, thanks," I said, examining the sword I'd drawn. The blade wasn't really short but not as long as Ethan's sword. Just a little more than two feet, maybe. Double-edged. It was a little wider than Ethan's sword, curving at the end towards the point. It was straight as in it was in line, but it was jagged. Designed to do more damage than a perfectly straight sword. And the metal was the darkest black I'd ever seen.

"…Oh," I said, finally understanding what the telekhine meant. I could feel the freezing aura of the blade chilling me to the bone. The hilt was a bright gold with a dark leather grip.

"I'm not sure what type of sword that is," Ethan said, sounding troubled. "The Son of Hades had one similar. Maybe it's not any style of Greek or Roman sword; maybe it's just Underworld-style." Kronos nodded solemnly.

Hunter was already reaching eagerly into the water. She didn't go very far before she frowned and pulled out…

…A pencil.

"Great," she said. "Always wanted one of those."

"Twist the eraser," Kronos suggested.

Hunter did. The pencil grew and expanded and began to take an achingly familiar shape. The resulting scythe was nearly as tall as she was. Modeled after her father's. This one, too, was also made of both steel and a glowing bright gold metal. The edge was stained black like my sword. On the bottom of the shaft, there was an elongated spearhead attached of similar material. That, too, reminded me of a sword.

"…Oh," she said, tossing it from hand to hand. Everyone flinched back to avoid it. "So, how're we supposed to use these?"

Kronos held up his scythe eagerly and pointed it straight at me. "Let me show you."

I hissed and backed away from the scythe, instinctively raising my hands up to protect me. Instead, I got the sword.

"Good, your instincts aren't half bad," Kronos mused.

"I just didn't like the scythe in my face," I explained. "Don't think anybody does."

He frowned and cocked his head to one side. "No. I wouldn't think so." Then he turned to face Brook.

I didn't like the way that sounded.

Hunter's golden eyes found mine. She tapped her scythe twice and blinked. We didn't have to speak. We'd always been able to communicate silently. I could see it all in her eyes now. Why she'd been so cooperative to him. She had what she wanted now. Information. Experience navigating the palace. A weapon.

A way to escape.

I shrugged and went back to my sword. I was absolutely positive that I had no way to use it and I'd probably get skewered by blonde's scythe if I tried to escape.

Then I turned my gaze back to Brook. But he was only showing her how to hold it.

"You're mother's an excellent shot," he said softly. "Don't be afraid; you're a natural at this. It's in your blood."

Ethan shifted uncomfortably and leaned against the wall, watching with sharp curiosity.

"Brook," I said slowly. "Try an arrow."

She seemed to understand. Kronos stood back and let her draw one carefully and notch it in the bow. "Like this?" she asked for clarification.

"Pull the string to your eyes," he said calmly but not patiently. "Aim at that crack in the wall there."

She let out a long breath, nodded, and focused.

Then she turned the bow straight upwards and fired.

With a blazing display of sparks and the crash of shattered glass, the one and only light bulb went out and plunged the room into darkness.

The soft glow of the two scythes and Ethan's sword provided faint spotlights of sight, but there was plenty of room to run around undetected. The three of us made a mad sprint for the door as fast as we could.

A bright flash lit the doorframe for a split second, casting shadows over a one-eyed face, then it was gone. The eye patch had gone from a slip of cloth to a dark hole in his face.

Hunter cursed leapt back. I ducked out of the way and tried to get around and attack from behind and give her time to escape. My foot hit something hard and I went sprawling against the wall.

A loud clattering noise rang in my ears as Hunter's scythe landed on the concrete beside me. Ethan's sword shot across the room and skidded to a stop on the opposite wall. There was a sickening crunch and somebody cried out.

"Foolish child," Kronos's crooning, metallic voice came from across the room. Even then it cut through my brain like a knife. I saw Hunter's smile on his face, white scar curved along his eye, as his own scythe swung out. A glimpse of brown curls disappeared.

Brook.

"Let her _go!"_ I screeched, using the wall as a launching pad. Kronos must've moved, though, in the time it took for me to get there, because I landed flat on my face on the concrete. Cursing I rolled to one side and to my feet in a crouched position. My sword was left behind at the doorway.

Kronos laughed at me and swung out with his scythe, a large but soft candle in total darkness. I leapt back in time to avoid losing my head and darted to one side, hoping he couldn't see me. But of course he could tell where I was somehow, because I didn't see what I tripped on this time but I know that somehow he'd done it. The floor was completely flat. He'd tripped me, maybe with the butt of his scythe.

His boot stepped lightly on my waist, slowly beginning to push harder. I looked up at the golden light and black shadows of his face. "It seems I've underestimated my daughter," he said calmly. "Apparently she's just as against this as you are."

I growled and spat, but since I was aiming straight upwards it didn't hit him in the eyes as I would've liked.

"It's a sign of good teamwork, I suppose," he went on, pressing harder with his boot. It was really starting to hurt. "The three of you organizing an escape plan without much talk. Unfortunately I was right when I said you have much to learn."

His scythe swung down again, so fast all I saw was a bright flash. Somehow I managed to roll away from his boot and watch the tip of the scythe smash into the concrete with a force that made my teeth rattle.

Hunter cursed loudly from somewhere in the corner where she and Ethan were strangling each other. Man, I knew she could fight, but that kid was scary. And if he really had spent his whole life training to fight in a war, for survival, I wasn't sure what the outcome would be.

"Would you care to back up some more?" Kronos asked me, snapping my attention back to his scythe. I leapt to my feet and began to slowly walk backwards as he advanced. "Yes… Keep on going…"

I had no idea why he wanted me to back up, though I'm sure it wasn't pleasant, but I had no choice. It was that or get my head sliced off.

Eventually my back hit the wall, but he kept pushing me down it farther and farther away from the door. Hunter continued to curse. There was another smacking sound, then a lot of shuffling. I had no idea where Brook was.

"This is the darkest corner of the room," Kronos said easily, as if we were just chatting over lunch or something. "I think it'll be best for you. Now, you remember who your father is, don't you?" He didn't wait for a response. "Good. So, if you know anything about him, this should be easy. Here's how we'll do this; You keep thinking on that, and I'll try to kill you."

"What?!"

"Shadows. Darkness. Keep it in mind," he suggested as my back hit the corner. I raised one hand in front of me protectively, the other behind my back inside the corner. The hand behind me started to go fuzzy. It was a strangely pleasant feeling.

I gasped and flinched, but there was no time to move. Hunter screeched something inaudible at the exact same time. For a moment, I was watching everything in slow motion. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, but I saw the scythe coming. He swung it down at me with deadly accuracy. My whole body went numb, fuzzy, like I wasn't solid anymore. The hand raised in front of me defensively disappeared. My head felt lightweight. It was impossible to breathe. That one moment, stuck in freeze-frame, was the strangest thing I'd felt in my whole life.

Then the scythe hit.

It hit my throat dead-center. The curved blade buried went right through me and buried its tip in the concrete wall to my left. The thicker part of the scythe was still in my throat. Kronos kept a firm grip on the weapon.

It burned so bad. Like somebody had shoved fire down my throat. A fire that was slowly spreading. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. My mind went fuzzy, too. The room grew darker and the golden lights of the weapons disappeared. Complete silence took the room.

Then, from a distance, I heard Kronos's laughter. It naturally sounded cruel – his voice did that – and there was some sort sick sense of irony about it. "It worked!" he said.

There was the clatter of another weapon hitting the floor, a quick shuffle, and a curse from Hunter. Then she was yelling. "What'd you do to her?!"

"Where's Bree?" came Brook's voice from somewhere closer. "Bree?"

I still couldn't do anything. I couldn't even feel my heart pounding anymore. The only solution I could find was that I was dead. Or dying. Nothing else really made sense right then.

"My lord," came Ethan's nervous voice. "I don't understand."

"A demigod has naturally sharp survival instincts," Kronos said. "All she needed was some motivation." The scythe and its burning fire disappeared, leaving behind an ache that was dull in comparison. The moment the flame disappeared, I sank to the floor.

Kronos knelt down and held his scythe – it must've been on fire, the heat it emanated – next to me. I couldn't see him. But I knew he was there. His voice was still far off but solid nonetheless. "She is not dead. She is a shadow."

"I don't care what you did or how you did it. But it better be reversible," Hunter spat. "Change her back. You said you'd take us home."

"I didn't do anything," Kronos said. "She reacted this way. Think of it as a survival instinct. Her father is Pluto. I'm sure you recall the Helm of Darkness? It turns its user into a shadow, into darkness, allowing them to pass through walls or solid objects without harm. It strikes fear into anyone nearby. Humans believe darkness is merely the absence of light. And even I can't wrap my mind around the concept, as it's not in my sphere of power. But here is what I do know; it is not just the absence of light. It is much more. The speed of darkness is unbelievable. I am struggling to speed up time for the rest of us to keep up with her. Shadow Travel is a very effective way to get from place to place. It's quite tiring. But Bree… She can stretch out the first step. Become a shadow. And that is why the scythe didn't touch her – it couldn't really hurt her at all. It just went straight through her. The light probably doesn't feel great, but it saved her life." The warmth of his scythe intensified as he brought it closer, threatening to impale me again.

"Let me go," I rasped. Speaking sent a strange pattern of vibrations through my chest.

"English, please," Kronos said.

"Let… Me… Go," I said, stressing each word. I could hear it this time. It echoed eerily around the room, but it was definitely English. Strange, I hadn't notice I'd spoken another language the first time…

"You heard her," Hunter snapped. "Let her go."

"Strong words for a girl with a sword at her throat," Kronos muttered. But his scythe disappeared along with the burn and left only the ache of where it had touched my throat. But then I heard the snap of his fingers and the burn came back, much stronger.

I bit back a scream, but the pain caused something in me to snap. The fuzzy feeling disappeared like a flung rubber band. My head got heavier and my legs felt overridden by exhaustion. I could feel the concrete floor now, a nice cool surface on my cheek. Kronos had somehow installed another light bulb, because the room was bright again.

"Impossible," rasped, hoping they couldn't see my hands shaking.

Hunter probably would've been at my side, but sure enough, Ethan had her cornered and his sword under her chin. Brook was trapped between them and Kronos with really nowhere to go – not Hunter, not me, and not the door.

Kronos examined me, then Brook, and finally the girl he seemed to believe was his daughter. "You are dismissed until tomorrow. Ethan, put them in dorm 333. If you must disarm them, fine, but please don't kill anyone without my permission."

"Yes, my lord," Ethan said, obediently sheathing his sword. There was a dark bruise blooming underneath his eye patch. But though Hunter stepped forward and pushed past him daringly, she didn't seem eager to slug him again. Brook rushed to her side. Hunter just walked calmly through the room to me and offered her hand.

I took it, hauling myself to my feet. I felt like I had that night after we'd spent the whole day chasing down the rabid squirrels Brook insisted keeping in the dorm – ready to drop. The ache in my throat still felt hot.

Aside from that, though, I couldn't feel anything. I was numb. Tired and numb. The castle didn't feel real anymore. It seemed to vaporize, just like reality had a few moments ago when Kronos tried to kill me.

Ethan gestured for us to follow him. "Come on, guys. I'm eager to have a normal day tomorrow."

"So this isn't normal, even by your standards?" Hunter sneered. I felt better that she was openly displaying her hostility now. Sassing off authority. That, at least, was normal.

And it was so hard to believe that would ever change.

Ethan just sighed and walked out the door, not really seeming to care if we followed. Kronos was glaring at us, though, so we all hurried after him. Hunter had to push me along and nudge me around corners to follow him. I just followed her. I'd say my mind was elsewhere, but in truth it was nowhere.

"What happened?" I asked, no longer sure I was recalling all the events in that room properly.

"Kronos tried to kill you," Hunter said. Check. "But you… I don't know, disappeared? We couldn't see you. And apparently you were a shadow, so he didn't hurt you. Like, you existed in a different dimension or something. Did you catch anything he said?"

"I don't know," I said, blinking and trying to recall exactly what happened. It felt surreal. Like trying to recall some conversation you were only half-conscious for. "Some of it? All of it? Sounds familiar. I think I imagined some of it, though." I shook my head. "I just… I need to sleep. We'll wake up in the dorm tomorrow."

Hunter squeezed my shoulder gently. "I won't lie to you. I don't think that's going to happen."

Ethan didn't comment, leaving us in peace for the moment.

"All I know is that I definitely don't like this guy," Brook murmured. "He claims he's recruiting an army. And yes, I can understand why tests might be necessary. But an attempt to flat-out murder a new recruit? And a valuable one? It just doesn't fit. Especially if he truly believed Bree is the first and only of her species."

Of my species. The words made me feel sick.

"He's dangerous," Ethan spoke up for the first time. "But you don't understand. He knew Bree would be fine. And you really can't see why he did it?"

"Um, because he lost his temper?" Brook guessed.

"Because it's proof. A _human_ can't meld with shadows. Not even most demigods. A _human_ doesn't normally make a bulls-eye on the first shot. A _human_ couldn't beat me in a fistfight. And they definitely couldn't survive a direct hit from his scythe. He's forcing you to face who you really are. Forcing you to accept and get over it."

"I'm not about to be _forced_ into anything. Nor will I stand for someone pushing my friends around," Hunter snapped at him. "And yeah, I am human, and I just beat you in a fistfight."

"I'd defend myself if I had enough remaining pride," Ethan muttered bitterly. "Look, you hate Kronos now. Tomorrow you'll be thanking him. You'll thank him when he leads us to save the world. Perhaps then I'll have more dignity. But you can't hide from who you are, guys. I've known who I am ever since I can remember, so I can't really relate, but I'm not stupid. Refusal to admit what you are is only going to bring tragedy."

"Is that what cost you your eye?" Hunter muttered.

Ethan stopped cold. When he spoke, his tone was curt and sharp. "Yeah. I refused to admit I was just a homeless demigod who'd never figure out who my parents were and wouldn't ever have some sort of influence on the world. I refused to admit I meant so little. Best thing that ever happened to me." Then he kept walking.

After a while and a few more corridors – the palace was _huge_ – Hunter brought up another topic. "What's up with this battle going on tonight?"

"Not here, not now. We're not going and neither is Kronos. Don't worry about it. It's an easy win for us even without him there."

"You're attacking through the Labyrinth, if I'm correct? Admit it, I usually am," Hunter went on.

Ethan hesitated a bit. "…Yeah, the Labyrinth. Tricky place. But with the right guidance, it can serve as a quick entrance to just about anywhere in America. It's difficult to survive down there without a guide. Not impossible – I did for a time – but very hard. Oh, look, there's your room!" The last sentence sounded much more enthusiastic than I'd ever heard him. I guess the idea of losing us was to him, like many others, a good thing.

It was a simple black door with the golden number _333 _on it. Now that I bothered to look around, there were a lot of similar doors in this hallway. It looked like a normal hotel. Strange. How did we go from the place around the training room to… to this?

"Well, go in, get some sleep, and be in breakfast by six," Ethan said, opening the door. "Don't drink the nectar unless in emergencies. It'll kill you if you're not careful. And I advise doing your best to avoid nightmares. Don't let your mind wander as you sleep. It's driven people mad before."

We stood in the hallway, staring at him.

"Well?" he asked, grimacing. "Go!"

Hunter sighed and led us in. It was a simple room. Clean but not painted or fancy at all. Three cots sat on low platforms, one pillow on each bed. A blanket was folded at the foot of each one. There was a small coffee table to one side, next to another door that I assumed led to the bathroom. In the corner of the room, sitting on the rough brown carpet against the plain white wall, was a cluster of water bottles. Inside was a sparkling golden liquid. My first thought was that it looked a lot like a certain yellow substance that I could _never_ be encouraged to drink, let alone enough to kill me like Ethan had said, but I was too tired to dwell on it. There was a small chest next to each bed, clearly designed for storing clothes. Nails hung on the walls as if somebody had removed paintings that may or may not have once been there.

"Nice place," Hunter said in a tone that might've been sarcastic, though I wasn't sure.

"Don't care what it is," I muttered. "I'd just like the chance to sleep before somebody tries to kill me for my own good again. Or before I accidentally turn into some freaky demon."

"It _was_ for your own good," Ethan said quietly. "I… I've never seen him act so courteous. I'm surprised he didn't kill all three of you. The fact that he didn't means that you have value. But you're no better than a monster's sandwich, no good to him or yourself, if you can't accept who and what you are."

"Dude. A lecture on politics is wasted on all of us," Hunter sighed, putting a hand on the door. Two more seconds and she would've slammed it in his face.

"I see that," he muttered. "You're the first people I've seen who've thought they've had a choice on what race they're born into. But before you make your decision I wanted to point something out; the only humans on this mountain are the dead or cursed." Then he was gone.

"Dead or cursed," Hunter muttered, slamming the door with a loud bang. "We're neither. We're sleeping in a kidnapper's house. I believe, in fact, that the situation qualifies as _doomed_."

_***end***_

Nic: Hunter? Subordinate? Ha!

Nyx: Nic? Subordinate? Ha!

Nic: We finally see her true colors here. I like that. While she likes it more than Bree, she's not happy, and now we finally see – gasp – she's got a plot to do something about that, and has had one all along. This is Hunter, people.

Nyx: This is Nic, people.

Nic: Since when were you Echo?

Nyx: Since I felt like it. Anyway, my favorite part was the teamwork. How well they communicate and work together. And Hunter slugging Ethan, of course. I'm not his fangirl, but I love the kid to death.

Nic: You torture the characters you love, though.

Nyx: Guilty as charged, hypocrite.

Nic: Likewise.

Nyx: Tell us what you think, people! Review, review, review! Please, this story was written to be read – let us know you read it! Let us hear your thoughts, reactions, constructive criticism, everything! I don't care if you tell me that you got a new pair of shoes today and they remind you of Brook – tell us!

Nic: You might not want to say that. People can be, ah… scary.

Nyx: I like a good horror story. Review!

Nic: I'm sure I'm horror story enough for you, Nyx.


	8. Grils' Night Out

DISCLAIMER: We own Hunter, Brook, and Bree. The rest of the characters and the whole PJatO series belongs to the amazingness the world knows as Rick Riordan.

_***begin***_

"…My lord?"

Kronos looked over his shoulder coldly, making Ethan shudder. "Nakamura. You've returned – I assume they're in their dorm?"

"Yes, my lord." Ethan bowed his head briefly. He hoped Kronos wasn't going to lock them in there and force them to discover their powers to break out – that method of training demigods usually ended up with a scream, a boom, and a mess that could all be summed up as unintentional suicide.

"How were they?" Kronos asked, looking straight again and walking forward. He never seemed to really get farther away, though. His shoes made loud clacks that didn't echo but resonated strongly through the room, almost like something living was trapped inside the sound. As was in the knife of his voice. "Did they seem preoccupied?"

"With the possibility that they're not human, or ever have been?" Ethan asked, slightly surprised. "Anyone would be, my lord. Why ask?"

"If they keep their minds occupied on that tonight, we have three less runaways to worry about," Kronos said simply. "As you and I are not attending the battle, and half my palace is in ruins, we don't need any more complications."

Ethan shuddered, remembering Hunter's fist slamming against his face. He'd recovered from worse blows. He'd make the mistake, however, of hesitating to attack an unarmed and inexperienced _girl._ After that first mistake, though, he'd managed to get back on his feet. Complications? Definitely.

"My lord, you have a plan?" Ethan guessed. Hopefully it didn't involve having Hunter try to beat out his remaining eye again.

Slowly, Kronos began to nod and paced to his right now. "Yes. You're smart, Nakamura. I can rely on you to train them. Your sword-fighting method is, ah, unorthodox, but it will do them good. Your very breath proves so."

Ethan almost choked. Train someone? "M-my lord, I lost the fight against Jackson in the arena. And I don't know anything about teaching someone-"

Kronos shot ice-coated daggers from his eyes again. "Nakamura, do you doubt my judgment?" Ethan was silent. "Do you doubt yourself?" Kronos began to stalk closer, scythe drawn. "You shouldn't. You are no average demigod, and neither are they. I will handle Hunter; you can take the archer and the insane one's sister. I do not doubt that you can teach them what they need to survive this war."

He was right in front of Ethan now, who was praying the Titan wasn't aware of his legs shaking. Fear was not something to be ashamed of, as it was a sign of respect towards an enemy. But that's just it – Kronos wasn't his enemy. Shouldn't be, anyway. "Nakamura, you pledged yourself to this long before you presented me with my scythe and swore your loyalty to my hand. Are you scared enough to back out on that, because of a couple of girls?"

"No, my lord," Ethan said stiffly, his heart speeding in his chest. All his survival instincts said to run or draw his sword. Being unarmed near a blade like that scythe was not funny.

Now, that scythe was tracing the right edge of his jaw line. "Good. Realize, Nakamura, that we could win this. We will. Those recruits have amazing potential, but I can do nothing if I approach them alone. But you, they will listen to. You were concerned about them not accepting their lack of humanity earlier? You're helping them now. This war, your justice…" He brought the scythe off Ethan's chin sharply, almost cutting off the tip. "It is within your reach. It is your duty to help your army reach its full potential, just like it is mine. You help them, and I will help you."

Ethan's breath came faster now. Kronos had never threatened blackmail, but he didn't like it when the Titan talked about his eye.

Kronos knew it. He turned away again. "Nakamura, you gave your eye for a chance to make a difference. You were tired of not being all you could be, not saving the world from these imbalances. Training these heroes will be good for you. Won't it taste so good, to finally get what you've suffered so much for?"

Ethan swallowed thickly, but it was no longer under Kronos's golden gaze, coated with ice. Of course it would taste good. No matter what happened, he knew he wouldn't lose sight of what motivated him. Even if it took Kronos reminding him a couple times – he would never forget what he fought for. You don't give up the fight when the fight's all you have left.

"Yes, my lord. Thank you," Ethan mumbled, blowing briefly. He wasn't exactly sure on the formalities on having a conversation with a Titan, but as with any immortal, they would blast you to ashes for disrespect. The ache where his left eye used to be reminded him that Kronos was probably the least likely to do that. It was a bitter thought, but as far as Ethan was concerned, it was true.

Kronos looked at him again, this time critically. "Get some sleep, Nakamura. Training starts tomorrow. And put some ice on that bruise. If you need help controlling the Hades girl, call me."

"My lord, just one question – the younger one? Brook?"

Kronos chuckled. "Yes, that one, too. She could be trouble, because she's quiet in a different way than Bree. Forgive me. I thought of Bree first because of her brother." His gaze focused off in the distance. A storm began to brew in his irises. "If she's anything like him, we're headed for Tartarus." He glanced at Ethan again. "Are you sure they are preoccupied with their own thoughts tonight?"

Ethan bowed. "Y-yes, my lord. I'll… go now."

"I'm not going to sit here and mull through crap," Hunter said, tossing a fresh change of clothes at me. "Put them on. Hides your scent. Ethan had one thing right; there's no point in sulking over what we are."

"It is if it gets us killed," Brook pointed out helpfully.

"Reality check?" I asked. "Even if we _are_ inhuman, we're also tired, hungry, and bruised up. How are we going to pull this off?"

Hunter held up one of the bottles labeled 'nectar.' "This stuff. It heals demigod stuff, right? Well, seeing as your shadow thing made you_ tired_, and the cure for that is _sleep_… Could this work as a sleep _substitute_?"

I sighed, spotting a small white sheet of paper pinned under another bottle. I picked it up and, with a moment of concentration, read the English words out loud. "_Warning; Over-dosage leads to instant, painful death. Keep out of reach of humans._ I'm loving this plan."

"Hey, hey, watch your mouth," Hunter chuckled. "If we can't bust our own way out, we'll just have to follow the attack group tonight. And this is how we do that."

"You don't really think there's much to see, do you?" Brook guessed as she pulled on her jacket.

Hunter considered. "I know it's not good to base entire opinions and decisions, especially ones like this, on one man's word. But I think that we can trust Kronos for the most part. It seems, at least, he was right about our… specialties."

"Specialties? We're freaks _among_ freaks, Hunter. That's not the attention I want; it's not the attention I've ever wanted. I just want to go back to the dorm. …Wow, never thought I'd say that."

"Neither did I," Hunter agreed as she laid a hand on the doorknob. Mischief glittered in her eyes, as if we were sneaking out to put tape over the principal's door just like we did every night. "But desperate times call for desperate measures. Let's go crash that party."

_***space***_

Sneaking out was easy.

The nectar buzzed in my blood like a glorified, unhealthy, sugar-filled energy drink. We'd crept from the halls where the rooms were and followed the noise of a battle-hungry crowd. It led us down the mountain's peak to a lower part of the palace – the part that'd been destroyed. Uneven slabs of crumbled marble lay everywhere. But for the most part the wreckage was covered by the massive crowd that'd gathered – it consisted of armored demigods and armored monsters.

Around the fringes were carts full of backup supplies. Breastplates, helmets, swords, even a few shields that had probably seen better days. We grabbed a few, darted behind corners, and quickly dressed up the best we could. I was positive my helmet was a dozen sizes too big, but it'd have to do. I had grabbed a sword, also, as to not look suspicious.

As a result I ended up staring at my own sword, its mysterious black metal, and wondering where I'd hide it. It didn't seem smart to leave it behind.

I was fiddling with the hilt when it happened. The bottom part twisted around and, to my utter shock, the sword began to shrink. It twisted and morphed and appeared to glow – but when it was done it was just a plain, rectangular white eraser.

…._Holy _crap…

_Don't think about it too much,_ I told myself. Before I could begin to dwell on it again I shoved the eraser in my pocket and ran back out to join the crowd. I kept an eye out for Hunter and Brook, who were nearby but didn't dare come too close as to give away our identity by our combined heights. People and monsters shifted and didn't stray too far, though we didn't seem to be in any marching order just yet. Hoping to merge with the crowd, I stayed close to another demigod and tried to ignore the monster stink.

A Laistrygonian behind me bumped into my beacon demigod, though, and he pushed me farther into the crowd. I tripped, unbalanced by the armor, and landed hard on the floor with a _clang _that was drowned in the sea of noise. Immediately something hard hit my head and sent streaks of white across my vision.

Instinct got me up before someone else accidentally – or, if it was a demon, more likely on purpose – kicked me again. I didn't need to be told – a downed man is a dead man. I rolled, fumbling through the armor, until I found my feet. I made sure to keep above the crowd this time.

Well, above their feet, at least.

I located my sisters again with a quick turn of my head and let out a long breath. Whew. Okay. We were going to do this. We were going to sneak along – to a battle of all places and things. I'd snuck out of places before, but this… It set my blood on fire. This was life and death. Do or die.

No. Perhaps that was just the nectar. Do or die shouldn't feel this… Exhilarating. My heart was bounding in eagerness, not fear. Nectar, I decided solidly.

I glanced around for Brook and Hunter again and, to my surprise, found myself facing a massive black wall. Instinctively I flinched back and held my hand out to protect myself. But the wall, though radiating something cold, didn't lunge for me. Feeling stupid, I glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, and put my arm down. My gaze turned back to the wall again, and this time with interest.

It sparked a memory. Of watching from Atlas's courtyard as this wall sprang up among the others, shaking the mountain, and sending black marble toppling. Yet this one stood tall and proud, rather defiantly in fact, not even a chip in its uneven surface.

Tentatively, I reached out to touch it.

"I not do that."

The slick, hissing tongue of the demon next to me made me jump. It stared at me with beady eyes from under its helm. "I not do that. Bad," it repeated. "You do it, you die. Others eat you."

My eyes narrowed. "And you would care why?"

As soon as the words were out I flinched and wanted to kick myself. They were people, Ethan had said. People.

The voice hissed and clicked angrily. "Waste of food! You die here, most meat will be thrown and dirtied. Nobody will eat much of you. That is waste."

Oh. Well, there was that, too.

I stared up at the wall again, another memory struggling to resurface. But I couldn't quite pin it down. "Why would a wall kill me?"

Another harsh hiss. "Son of Hades. Son of Hades made that wall. Cursed wall."

Cursed. Oh. Now I got it – this was made of the same stuff as my sword. "Oh. I… I see."

The demon clicked its tongue – or whatever it used to speak – again, and this time there was a new eagerness that made my stomach crawl. "Evil wall, evil half-blood. Madman. Kronossss will have his fun soon. Kronossss gets all the fun."

Despite the jealousy in its tone (I had no idea if it was male or female, or if there was such thing among its species), it spoke of lord Kronos with almost lover-like devotion. I swallowed thickly and turned to the wall again.

Before I could even think farther the ground trembled dangerously. I yelped and jumped back – the wall again, maybe – but it stopped soon. I risked a glance around the wall and, caught somewhere between horror and awe, stared.

The monster that had flown in and landed was massive. Huge. I'm talking bigger than a _Hondai _sale. It was a green dragon with glistening scales and a bat's wings. Serpents – snakes, fangs dripping with poison – coated its legs and belly like a skirt, its massive claws poking out from the writhing mass at the bottom. Where the neck should've sprouted from, there was a band of strange… things. They were shifting, bubbling lumps. At one point I thought I saw a wolf's head emerge, but I wasn't sure. Above the belt-like ring rose the scaly torso of a woman with venom-green eyes and more glistening snakes for hair.

She pulled her lips back over pointed teeth and hissed. I was terrified, frozen where I was, my heart racing my mind. But around me the crowd erupted into cheers, echoing her cry. From around her ever-molding waist she pulled two massive, curved swords dripping with a glowing green liquid that stank to the high heavens.

The screams got louder, the sound swelling in my chest, assaulting my ears like lots of little hammers, banging around between my skull and my helm, magnifying the horrific sound.

No, not horrific. It was deeper than that. Not horrific at all. Something…

…Mesmerizing.

It stirred something inside, something I'd long forgotten. It reminded me of that time Brook had started a riot on the bus, when she was just eight and a bunch of other young kids behind her, pumping their fists and yelling defiance against the school bullies. My heart began to pound in my chest – in fear, in adrenaline, in amazement, in horror. I hadn't ever felt like this before.

And before I knew it, I was chanting along.

The word _Kampe _was on my lips. I'd picked it up from the crowd. The dragon's name, obviously. The dragon reached down to her belt, shifting her sword hilt to do so, and plucked something from the mouth of what might've been a bear. The crowd quieted and began to mumble. I squinted in an effort to see what it was, but all I caught was a glint of gold.

Slowly, she began to raise it in the air. Then, with a jerk-like motion, shoved it above her head and let loose a mighty roar that shook the ground again and rumbled in my chest like an earthquake. I almost put a hand on the Black Wall to steady myself.

A moment after she began to howl, the crowd picked up. The chant had changed. "_FOR THE TITANS!"_ It was from the throats of Laistrygonians, vampire-demons, snake ladies, insect-like creatures with exoskeletons, and a few demigods. The baying of dogs came from somewhere. Swords banged hungrily against shields. Wordless battle cries lit the night like fireworks.

Before the cries died down Kampe moved, revealing a tunnel dug into a pile of stones and marble rubble. I cast one more glance towards Hunter and Brook so I wouldn't lose them.

Then, following the army of half-bloods and demons and snake-dragons and massive red-eyed dogs, I plunged into the Labyrinth.

_***end***_

Nyx: Woot! Let's get this started!

Nic: Ethan!

Nyx: I liked that scene, too. Yay Ethan! Just a couple short announcements real quick. First, I'm sorry this is four hours late (I feel so ashamed), I slept in this morning because I was up until one last night. Yeah, I'm a genius. Anyway, next, the poll is finally up. Polls will go up on Saturdays with the chapter updates and will be taken down the next Saturday. A week after it goes down, I'll post the results right here! Woot! Please vote!

Nic: Review, review, review!

Nyx: *dancing weird, starts singing to a strange tune* Review, review, review!

Nic: That's not helping, Nyx.


	9. The Battle of the Labyrinth

DISCLAIMER: We have no intent to steal Rick Riordan's awesomeness! We'd be lucky if we got the skill he has in writing. We own Bree, Hunter, and Brook. All other characters and the PJatO series belongs to him. Seriously, we love him too much to steal his work.

_***begin***_

We regrouped at the back of the armies.

A legion of demons were at the front, accompanied by a few demigods. Kampe was halfway through the procession, leading from there with a golden thread I'd only come to know about much later. More demons and more half-bloods were behind her, and with my sisters and I at the very back.

We didn't dare stray too far behind, but we didn't dare stay in earshot, either.

As we trailed the armies at first no one said a word. We were adjusting to the place. It was a wonder that Ethan had survived down here for years. Just walking through one narrow corridor you could feel the vast size. Like the breeze from the left was from New York, and the one to the right was from Washington, the one behind us from Texas. The sounds, too reinforced the idea – echoes of creaks and scrapes and turns and growls drifted through like scraps of torn flesh through the sea after a feeding frenzy. Once or twice we heard a demonic howl. The constant chill kept my goose bumps on edge. Something about this place felt… _alive._ Like it was watching me. With x-ray vision.

Several times I would peer down a tunnel out of curiosity or fear, worried something might spring at us from it. Immediately, a bend would appear just through the opening or it'd just seal up entirely.

I dimly recalled someone at dinner talking about how this maze read your mind. I shuddered and looked away, hurrying to keep up with the empousi we were following.

Hunter was the first to speak. "So, when we get there…"

"Please tell me you have a plan," I muttered.

She gave me a look. "Hey, I'm not the leader! It was my idea, but we all contribute! Let's be the democracy set up by our Ancient Greek ancestors, huh? Would you be so ennoble as to start a _monarchy _in its place?"

Fortunately I have a lot of practice avoiding Hunter's quick cons. "There won't be any government if we get killed!"

"Guys!" Brook snapped, nothing more but a whisper with tons of tone behind it. "Keep your voices down!"

Hunter sighed. "So, any ideas?"

"We could go back," Brook suggested.

Instinctively, we all looked over our shoulders. The corridor behind us had turned into a solid brick wall.

We all quickly looked away. "Bree? Your idea?" Hunter suggested.

I considered. "Hm… The moment we're out and free, we can run away. From all of this – not just the fight."

She shook her head. "Not an option. None of us can last through a fight, but I don't think running away is going to solve anything. We're not supposed to be human, and we're not going to make it in the human world."

I sighed as my hand landed on the pocket where my sword was nestled. "Right. Right. Perhaps we should just hide and watch, then?"

"That was our original purpose, and hiding would be good," Hunter said, as if this had already occurred to her ages ago.

"It seems wrong," Brook muttered. "Us hiding while our comrades fight."

"They're not our comrades yet. By the time tonight is over, we'll know if they will be," Hunter said calmly, staring off into space.

Thought it didn't seem right to let anyone die, in reality I knew we could do little to save anyone if we tried to fight. We'd probably just get killed ourselves. And according to Kronos, we'd be depriving his army of unique demigods that shouldn't exist. Of weapons.

The thought brought another to mind. "Brook, where's your bow?"

"In my pocket. It turned into paper."

"Mine's an eraser," I said, glancing at Hunter. "And yours is a pencil."

She snorted. "Awesome. Isn't the pen mightier than the sword?"

"What does that make the eraser, then? Useless?" I muttered, glancing ahead at the vampire demons. We seemed to be keeping the right distance.

Sure enough, though, right as I dared look, they stopped. The whole crowd had. Brook, Hunter and I fell silent and put our helmets back on, trying to meld in with the rear. Noise and grumbled voices echoed ahead. Behind us, the Labyrinth creaked and groaned as the tunnels rearranged themselves.

The grumbled voices turned to whispers, the whispers forming orders. Others were reminders. _Slay them all. No prisoners. Kronossss will be pleased with us tonight._

Again, I noticed they spoke with such devotion. My heart kept a steady beat but put more force behind each stroke. The details of the tunnel seemed to sharpen into focus – the cracks along the dirt-and-stone walls, the musky scent, the noises more precise. I could hear each individual pitch, each layer. The whispers in front of me were clearer, still windy and blowing by but more like a soft snowfall than a whirling blizzard. Beside me, Hunter stiffened. Brook fingered the pocket that held her bow, her sword shifting awkwardly where it hung along her thin waist.

Far up ahead, battle horns blew. They echoed along the cavern so strong and loud, everyone in America must've heard. But they quickly faded, in reality no quieter but automatically tuned out in my mind. Next came the sound of charging. We were too far back to be next in line or even see the frontlines advancing, but we heard them. More battle cries. The thundering footsteps that shook the cavern.

It wasn't until Brook grabbed my hand did I realize were standing in the same formation we'd been in when Ares cornered us in the school courtyard. Hunter to my right, Brook to my left. I glanced at her and she offered me as mile. My gaze then met Hunter's, just a golden glint beneath her hair, and I saw her nod.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I could almost feel the cool breeze of the fan in our dorm, smell the cinnamon scent they sprayed out in the hallways, hear the faint background music of our small little radio that picked up more static than anything else. There was no going back to that now.

When I opened my eyes again, the line in front of us had started to move forward. We did what anyone else would've done in that bottle-necked situation.

We followed.

_***space***_

It was still a while before we made it out into the sunlight. It took a bit of time for the army to emerge from our tunnel.

Yet it went very fast. Reports say that the battle lasted hours. We seemed to reach the end in forty-five minutes. Though yet again, people also say that the Labyrinth works on its own clock, and after spending a few hours (or forty-five minutes?) in there I can tell you that that particular theory is more than possible.

As it turns out, the opening to the tunnel didn't open into sunlight at all. It was dark here. We were in sight of it once Kampe emerged and vanished through the mouth of the corridor, leaving us a glimpse of brilliant stars and a sky lit by flickering red light. Horrible sounds came from up there. The roar of metal on metal, screams of pain and of battle cries, the screech of demons. The _thwang _of fired bows. The empousi in front of us shifted nervously, and I knew that things weren't going well for our side.

The closer we got, the louder the noises were. We were maybe five lines behind the end of the tunnel when more footsteps shook the corridor. And these, to my horror, came from behind us.

Brook yelped in surprise as the ground began to shake. "Duck!" she screeched, and lunged to one side. I followed her, and Hunter went the other way. I was a tad too late – whatever was charging from behind slammed into my back and sent me sprawling along the ground. Wheezing, I half dragged, half crawled over to where Brook crouched and covered my head. Something else thundered by with surprising mass and speed, quickly followed by another smaller figure, this one on foot and sounding very much human.

Or very much demigod, depending on how you look at it.

I risked a glance once they'd passed, staring as they cut through our remaining lines and charged into the battle. One was a massive hellhound – a massive, shaggy black dog with glowing red eyes. Next was what looked like a Laistrygonian with… tentacles? I choked. No, they were arms. Arms all over him. The last was a figure, maybe just shorter than Hunter but definitely an adult, dressed in armor and donning a bronze sword.

The remaining, scattered survivors of their charge leapt to their feet and, screeching a battle cry, shot after them like bullets into the fight.

By instinct I was already on my feet and sprinting after them. My Celestial Bronze cover sword was forgotten – in my hand I held my eraser. As I squeezed it, I felt it grow heavier, and the familiar midnight blade settled nicely into my hands. Like an extension of my own arms.

Hunter fell into step beside me, just a tad ahead. Brook hugged my other flank. Together, we burst from the tunnel into the fight.

Chaos. That's the only way to describe it. There was no sense at all – just a heaving mass of fighting things. Swords and cudgels and shields and flying arrows reflected the moonlight with such intensity. Green fire blazed off to the right flank. Everywhere there was movement, sporadic and wild and totally random. The noise was unbearable. Screeches and the roaring of metal dominated everything. There was a flash of a dagger there, the blaze of a red fire that way, the high-pitched shriek of something behind me, an impressive whirlwind of senses that made my head instantly hurt.

Hunter, Brook and I dove to one side, slinking along the pile of rocks we'd just emerged from. We were in a massive field surrounded by wood, with all the grass area dominated by the battle. Bodies heaved and weapons flashed. They were slowing beginning to make more sense, these flashes and colors and sounds – I could pick out a sword, a duel between an enemy demigod and one of our Laistrygonians. Before I could look away the giant landed his club on the boy's head with such force blood splattered across the ground and the helmet developed a massive dent. The boy – no older than fourteen, fifteen at most – dropped like a rock, and lay equally as still.

I choked, shocked, but Hunter dragged me away. I shook my head vigorously and kept my eyes up, skimming the fight like a fisherman might search the surface for signs of a school. I could make out patterns now – the enemy over there, us here – and found myself able to trace out paths through the fight.

"Make for Kampe!" Hunter yelled. "She's near the edge and big enough to protect us!"

We were on our way there, running as fast as we could through the fray. I leapt over the dead form of another demigod, flinched to the left to avoid a dagger that lashed out rather suddenly, ducked to save myself from a swinging club. Once, my sword went up instinctively, blocking another demigod's sword.

Through the helm I saw sharp eyes and a scowl. Without warning, they drew their sword back and struck at me again.

"Hunter, wait up!" I called, too occupied with dodging his bronze death stick to keep up. My heart was pounding. The colors were so bright, so crystal-clear, even the moonlight shining off his helm…

My sword went up to block another strike, and instinct drove me through the rest. He hadn't put enough power into the stroke. I shoved his sword away with mine and, without thinking, planted my foot on his chest as firmly as I could. He vanished, lost among the feet of the fray.

"Let's go!" Hunter yelled, making for Kampe again.

"Guys…" Brook warned.

Too late I saw it. Dang, anything will show up out of nowhere in a fight. The moon was blotted out by huge, dark shapes that flew faster than eagles. Like the ground had learned to jump, to dodge, to lunge, almost as if it were a person. I dodged an elbow – we were packed tight here – and watched, horrified, as our massive demon-dragon-snake-lady-leader-awesome-battle-weapon-odd-changer-best-shot-at-everything gave one last feral screech.

Then that massive dragon disappeared under the mass of flying boulders, the points of her broken swords sticking out at odd angles.

My heart skipped a beat. A demon that big, shot down so easily, no matter how distasteful it'd been… It's shocking to see something like that. There one moment and gone the next.

There was another crash, this one closer. I jumped and raised my sword to find Hunter standing scythe-to-spear with an enemy demigod. We were near the edge of the fight now – not so cramped, out of focus – but they blocked our way to cover, looking rather large and unmovable right about now.

"Go!" Hunter yelled, shoving the spear away and whirling on one heel. It was a panicked feign, but it wouldn't work –

Then, before my eyes, the demigod's spear arm froze. Stuck. Like a certain social studies textbook I can recall.

"Gogogo!" Hunter screeched, and we sprinted for the woods.

I wanted nothing more than to get there. Than to leave this horror behind me. Even as I ran I saw a dagger plunge into the demon who'd warned me of the Black Wall, counted three more motionless bodies in my path alone, and watched as a demigod with a slit throat collapsed and coughed blood, limbs twitching wildly in death throws. I was breathless. Frozen. My mind was on autopilot – fight or flight, and I had chosen the latter.

That fight was worse than the dining hall. By a lot.

The screams and clashes and roars faded again. I focused on my target, racing to keep up with Brook's gazelle-like pace. The armor, which had been so heavy before, was nothing now. Not when I was this panicked. My only instinct was to get away from that hellhole. Away from the screams and too-bright colors and the stench of blood and something else, something that tasted very sweet on my tongue.

Yet the colors never faded. Each was crystal clear. Almost mesmerizing, if I'd had time to stop and admire them. I'd never felt so alive.

My foot hit something solid right then, though, and before I knew it I was slamming into the grass. The crashing waterfall of noise assaulted my ears again and the colors began to blur. All thought escaped me and, with a feral yowl, I struggled to free my foot. It wasn't hard – I'd just tripped over another dead demigod. I bit my tongue to keep from screaming and scrabbled to my feet, running after Hunter.

We finally – _finally!_ – made it to the cover of the woods. I doubled over, panting, wishing so badly that we were far enough to ignore the noise and the stench and all the little horrors. I risked one glance behind me. I wouldn't have done it at all if I hadn't been dying to get a better look at whomever I'd tripped over. It seemed almost disrespectful for me not to acknowledge them now, when I had the chance, and so many others were dying hopelessly quick and forgotten around them.

Looking back on it, I know that's not why I glanced over my shoulder. But right then I had no other way to describe it.

"That kid's not wearing armor. Oh, God, there are kids here without armor…"

"Snap out of it!" Hunter growled, holding her scythe up and dragging us behind a large pine. "I know! I saw it!"

"He was my age," I gasped, shaking my head. My hands had begun to shake. My heart was thumping wildly now, at a pace I didn't know it could make. My muscles ached from the run, but I was packed with energy. The colors still came in sharp details. Nausea rolled through my stomach. I shook so badly that, if I hadn't been boosted by adrenaline, I would've collapsed right then and there.

"I know, I know…" Hunter said. Her head fell back against the tree and she let out a long breath. "Gods, what the Styx are we doing here?"

I shook my head wildly, trying desperately to lose the image of the pale boy in dark clothes and no armor, the one I'd last tripped over. The one who was my age, and now dead. "We have to get out."

"We're in enemy territory. We're in Camp Half-Wit or something," Brook rasped. "We can't just flee into these woods and hide out-"

_Thwang._

Another instinct that saved my life. At the sound, my sword went up, flat side out. The arrow fired at us bounced harmlessly off it. Immediately I heard another arrow strung, this one much closer, and the sharp release of the string once more.

But it wasn't the archer who'd fired. It was Brook, who was standing next to me. I hadn't seen where our enemy was, but she had, and a silver arrow shot into the leaves with amazing speed. There was a sharp cry and a solid thud as something heavy landed on the ground. It was followed by another sad, pained cry.

Brook lowered her bow and turned away. "I-I didn't kill him. I didn't, I swear, I just shot his bow arm-"

"Ssh," Hunter said, her voice overrun by another inhuman screech from the archer. I knew, without looking, that Brook had missed her target and hit something more sensitive, maybe something vital. She bit her lip and hid her eyes in her wrists. Hunter wrapped an arm around her gently.

"I want to go home," she sobbed. "I want to go home."

"Ssh, I know. I know," Hunter sighed. She closed her eyes. "I make one hell of a monarch, huh?"

Before I could answer, though, the worst sound yet erupted in my ears. There is no way to explain what I heard. It was just awful, so horrible it set my skin on fire and the hair on the back on my neck on end. It was the screams from the battle amplified a hundred times, tortured screams like the archer's, the hunting call of demons and the snarls of a dog lunging at my throat, the slick sound of a drawn knife, and the softer sound of that knife in flesh. The sound was so bad I could _smell _thick, hot, suffocating blood building in my throat.

It cut off all conscious thought process. It reduced me to utter panic. Had to get away, far away, awayawawayawayawayawayaway…

I ran.

I held on to Brook and Hunter and ran, panicking, screaming, trying to escape the horrible sound. My body was light and pure energy, moving so fast the wind felt like it was peeling my skin off. It was refreshing, cutting of the sound but doing nothing for the way it rang in my memory. The world had gone dark and cold and shadows whipped by so fast, it was breathtaking…

Literally. I found that I couldn't breathe. There was a brief flash as the dark greys and black gave way to an explosion of color, and heat rushed back into the world.

Then everything went black again, and this time I had nothing left to fight it with.

_***end***_

Nyx: Oooh, cliffy!

Nic: You know, if you weren't about to post the next chapter.

Nyx: Oh, hush! And to all my fellow fangirls out there, put your hands up if you recognized Nico in this chapter! Woot!

Nic: They won't recognize him if Bree insists that he's dead.

Nyx: You insult us. Di Angelo's girls can recognize him _anywhere. _

Nic: Oh, brother.

Nyx: That's right! Bianca's little brother!

Nic: *glances at all you fans* Save me.


	10. Chihuahua

DISCLAIMER:

Nyx: *holds up PJatO* Look at this awesomeness!

Nic: You say that like you don't stalk the author and rightful owner of that series.

Nyx: …Problem?

Nic: Yes. Hunter, Bree, and Brook feel betrayed. You love Rick Riordan's work as much as them, who belong to us.

Nyx: Well, if they read it, they'd love his awesomeness, too.

_***begin***_

"_Bree. Brianna…"_

Someone nearby groaned. I wished they hadn't. Sound made the pounding in my head worse, particularly something that low-pitched and close by.

_"Ugh, I've had it! Let me try this."_

Something sharp and hot lit across my face, jolting me awake. I gasped, grabbing my cheek to stifle the pain, my eyes widening on blurred objects, shades, and colors.

"See, it worked!" Hunter's voice, nearby. I closed my eyes to block out the painful colors and stifled another moan.

"Bree?" Brook, her voice softer, accompanied with a warm hand on my shoulder. "Bree, are you awake?"

"I could slap her again," Hunter suggested.

"No!" I groaned, opening my eyes. I was staring up at them, their faces light against a dark sky above. "I'm up!"

A smile broke across Hunter's face, her white teeth gleaming. "About time. That was _awesome!"_

"Hm?" I asked, puzzled, still struggling to remember where I was. To my utter shock, I couldn't. Before I could try to recall further information Brook's arms clamped around my torso, driving the breath from my lungs. "Oof."

"Sorry," Brook said, and squeezed harder. "I was worried. You've been out for almost two hours."

_That _got my attention. "Two hours? What…"

At last it all came rushing back. The weird substitute. The demons. The Titan lord and the kid with an eye patch. The Greek gods and the Black Wall and the dining hall and sneaking out… The fight…

The image of the boy my age, lying dead on a battlefield, utterly defenseless even if he'd had been alive, attacked my mind again. I struggled not to vomit as the scene flashed before my eyes, quickly followed by the rest of the battle. "Oh, gods…"

"Yeah. God_sssss_. Plural," Brook agreed sadly as she let me go.

I glanced at Hunter. "Where are we?" My throat felt like sandpaper.

She looked around. "Well, it appears to me that we're in a small alleyway made of yellow-colored bricks. You tell me the rest. You're the one who brought us here."

I blinked at her. Maybe I _had _gone insane. "…I'm sorry, _what?"_

"You brought us here. The panic-noise went off and you grabbed us and did your shadow thing. Kronos said shadows move a lot faster than humans – you've taken us somewhere far away." She glanced behind her, from where I could hear the sounds of people and cars. "Some city, it looks like. And from the symbols flashing on the big screens, somewhere in Asia."

I blanched. "_Asia?"_

"Asia. Not Japan, though – I don't see any anime. Seriously, you should've tried for Tokyo. Then we'd have had something to do while waiting for you to come around."

Pressing one hand to my temple in a vain effort to stop the headache, I struggled to process that. Asia. I'd teleported myself and my sisters to Asia.

"We have to get back somehow," Brook said softly. "We've got to get back to Kronos. Before he knows we're missing, and before something finds us out here."

Hunter nodded in agreement. "He was right, Bree. About everything."

"Alright, alright! I know that now! I got it! Ach, someone make the walls stop tilting."

Hunter put an arm around my shoulders. "Easy. How're you feeling?"

"Exhausted. Sick. What kind of a world-"

"Asking that question isn't going to help," she warned. Her hand landed on my forehead. "You collapsed the moment we got here. Scared us to death. We gave you some more nectar, but we were scared of an overdose considering we just had a little bit a few hours ago. But the safe amount didn't work. So we waited. You're fever hasn't faded yet, but as of right now I'm just kinda glad you're talking."

I leaned into her shoulder. "Hm. What are we going to do?"

She sighed heavily. "I don't know. I'd suggest you teleport us back, but that's out of the question."

Brook's small hand found mine. I squeezed her fingers gently. I really wasn't sure what else to do, much less what to say.

After a few minutes I found something appropriate, though. "I'm sorry. For getting us stranded here. I shouldn't have panicked."

"I think that's not your fault. That noise made _everyone _go nuts," Hunter sighed. "I was ready to cut your head off and sprint away, so long I made it out alive. That noise messed with your head, Bree. It's not your fault."

Brook turned and began fiddling with her little hiker's pack that she'd worn along to the battle. Of course she'd be the only one smart enough to bring extra stuff. "Here. I got some granola bars. If you think you can hold them down, it might be a good idea to eat some."

I wasn't entirely sure if they would stay down, but I felt hungry, so I took one. I was nibbling on the last bit of it when – thank whichever god or goddess you want to, I don't care – our savior came.

It started out as a ball of dark green light. I didn't notice until Hunter stiffened and growled at it. We all stared at it with dull curiosity. Yes, it was odd, but we'd seen a lot we couldn't explain that day. And it couldn't get our old lives back, not even take us back to Mount Othrys – what interest should we have in it at all?

But the little ball began to grow. It glowed that strange dark green color and pulsed lightly. It was about the size of a door when it stopped growing.

We were eying it now not with interest but with fear. It could very well be something that wanted to eat us. Or turn us in to the evil Olympians. Or my insane half-brother.

But just as we were about to turn away again, a familiar voice stirred inside it. It was blurred and fuzzy, like we were underwater, and the words were impossible to make out. But the tone and syllable pattern stuck out like a sore thumb.

Hunter frowned at the light. "…Hello?"

The voice began to rant at us, angrily bubbling beneath the surface, some of the words almost breaking through.

Brook gasped. "That's Ethan!"

"Ssh," Hunter said, then turned back to the light. "…Ethan? Is that you?"

More ranting. He was pissed.

"I think he wants us to go to it," Brook said. "He wants us to go to the green thing. It's a portal or something."

Hunter stared at her, then at the green light, then back at me. The voice – if it really was Ethan – had fallen silent. "…You feel up to trying it?"

"We don't have any other options," Brook pointed out.

Hunter sighed. "Alright. Come on, Bree." She pulled on my shoulders gently and held a portion of my weight as I stood. Brook rose with us, clamping her hands onto my free arm.

Hunter gave us one last determined glance, then turned her glare on the portal. "Alright! Beam us up, Scotty!"

And she stepped forward into the light, dragging us with her.

It wasn't like the shadow travel. This was cold, but not as much as the dark landscape I'd seen before. The dark-green light pulsed everywhere. I felt like I was falling at an incredible speed, but I found it just a little disappointing – my shadows were faster. I instantly didn't like this portal-trick.

As the green color whizzed by, still pulsing to some unseen heartbeat, for all of a moment. Then it was gone.

The three of us, still holding on to one another, stumbled. The light changed rather suddenly and made my eyes hurt. The smooth marble felt very foreign after the uneven grassland of Labyrinth clearing and rocky alleyway. I gasped for breath, not realizing until then that I'd held it through the portal ride.

"Oh, great gods!" Sure enough, it was Ethan's voice, very exasperated and _very _ticked. I opened my eyes to stare at him – he stood in front of us, dark eye blazing. "_What_ in Hades were you thinking?!"

Hunter looked around. We were in a small hallway, more like a corner. The portal still spun happily behind us. The walls were lit by the same green flames. We were back at Mount Othrys. "Um…"

His glare intensified. "If Kronos finds out you left… What's wrong with that one?" He nodded towards me.

"We're not sure," Hunter said. "Shadow travel complications."

His gaze smoldered. "Do you have _any _idea how stupid that was? You better have a pretty damn good reason for running off a fight when absolutely none of you know how to hold a sword, let alone use your powers or how a fight works in the first place!"

"We were sightseeing," Hunter replied evenly. "You have a problem with that?"

"Yes! I told Kronos you guys were safe in your dorm! Do you know what he'd do if he learned I was wrong?"

Brook sighed roughly and motioned towards the end of the corridor, where the rest of the palace lay beyond. "Has he notice we're missing yet?"

"He would have. You were supposed to meet us both outside the armory at dawn, a good hour ago. I came about thirty minutes before that to tell you it'd been moved to noon because of the fight. But, obviously, you weren't there." His scowl deepened. "I came here to find you. Hecate – goddess of magic – works for us, and she has a little station here of portals and scrying pools so she doesn't have to use up energy every time she poofs. I nearly got caught five times, which would've ended as badly as Kronos finding out you were gone. I couldn't find you, but the fight was long over and the Labyrinth had collapsed…" He trailed off, cold anger dominating his features.

"The Labyrinth collapsed?" Hunter asked.

He sighed and shook his head. "Yes. With all of our remaining forces under it. They're all dead. You three are the only survivors."

That thought hit home. I choked, closing my eyes and doing my best to forget that fight. But I could still scent blood and that thick, sweet scent hung in the air even now.

Ethan's hand landed on my shoulder, making me jump and forcing my eyes open. He studied my face closely. "I'm assuming you ended up in China by shadow travel?"

"Yes. There was a massive panic at the end of the fight, and it kinda ended up with us being dragged with her," Hunter provided. "…She'll be fine though, right?"

Ethan's hand brushed my throat, searching for a pulse. "I think so. You should probably get back to your dorm before you're missed, though. And catch some rest. Be at the armory on time, alright?"

I groaned and shook my head. No. That only gave me five hours to sleep, which was my normal amount, but I felt ready to collapse onto the marble and start snoring then and there. "Can you cover for us?"

His gaze hardened again as he stepped back and turned, leading us out of the corridor. "Absolutely not. It's not my fault you ran off. Put up with the consequences. Right now we're just lucky Kronos didn't find out."

_***space***_

So, at twelve forty-five, I stood in a courtyard, sword drawn, trying to figure out how to copy Ethan's battle stance.

Five hours of sleep hadn't really been sufficient, but it was better than nothing. I'd been the walking dead when Hunter dragged me from my cot. I'd eaten lunch on our way to the armory. From there Kronos took Hunter somewhere else. Being separated from her made my stomach twist with unease. Ethan had taken Brook and I into the armory to pick things that fit and then here, to this courtyard, to show us how to fight with our weapons.

Magic we'd learn later, he said. And probably from someone else, seeing as he lacked the ability to use it most of the time.

"Most of the time?" I'd asked. He'd dismissed the question with a flick of his hand and the sharp glint of teeth, exposed through a snarl.

Now, I spread my feet to shoulder-width, and held my hands out in front of me, staring at him and wondering if he would attack. The idea brought back images from the fight. I shoved them back as hard as I could.

Ethan sighed. "Put your sword down." He threw his own aside. "Now, hold up your hands like you're boxing. Ah, finally – something you recognize." His voice was cold and rather disappointed, which lit a fire in the pit of my stomach. I hated it when people acted like I was less than their standards, that I'd failed. I was trying my best, and honestly I saw no reason for him to take that tone with me.

"Now, copy what I do," he said, shifting so that he stood next to me, side-by-side, a fair amount of space between us. His right hand shot out in a punch that would've knocked an enemy in the face. I mimicked it the best I could.

We spent some time doing that. Brook was on his other side, copying this. Since it was basic sword fighting today, she would join in. But as her real skill was in her bow, she wouldn't need to know the more complex things. This was all she needed, and actually it was quite necessary – she might not always have the advantage of distance, Ethan had warned.

Eventually we added in some kicks. Then we sped up, forming sequences, pre-planed series of moves done quick as lightning. I wasn't as fast as Ethan just yet, and Brook was even slower – a first, me being faster than her – but we got the moves down. We'd all been in fistfights before, obviously.

Around two o'clock, Ethan grabbed his sword again and signaled for us to do the same. "Now, hold your sword like I showed you… And the same stance we had earlier. Right. Now show me the first sequence."

It consisted of an upward punch, a downward cut, and a roundhouse kick. He'd been pushing our physical conditions to the limit all day.

With the sword, though, I recognized the moves. The punch became a thrust, the downward strike a parry, and the kick just another kick. But no doubt it'd give you an advantage for the next strike.

"Sequence two!" Ethan barked as soon as I was done. I moved into it as smoothly as I could.

He sighed. "Good so far. But when you add the sword you have to change the way your hands are angled. Your sword, Bree, is good for just about anything – one-handed, with a shield, or two-handed and without. Brook, yours is… Well, it's your size. It's longer, so it's really meant for two hands."

"Do I have to keep this thing?" Brook asked as she hefted the heavy sword again. "I like by bow better."

He shook his head. "This is just to practice with. If you want your own sword, you'll have to strike a deal with our forgers. Or the weapons master, but that's kinda dangerous. Hey… Where is your bow anyway?"

"In her pocket," I said. I turned my own sword into an eraser and slipped it into mine. "Hers turns into paper."

His gaze sparked with interest. "Most weapons that do that are bound to their wielders. It'll teleport back to your pocket if you drop or leave it somewhere."

So for the next five minutes Brook and I tried that. Sure enough, every time I flung my sword off to the side, it reappeared as an eraser. It'd done this before, I realized, while we were practicing our moves without the swords. I just hadn't noticed.

Ethan nodded. "Neat. You must have a nice bond with it, huh?" he asked as I drew my sword once more.

I glanced at him. "A… a bond?"

"Yes. I'm not talking magic or anything – just a bond. Are you fond of it?"

I considered, hefting the sword from hand to hand. The answer found itself on my lips and I realized it was true. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

He nodded. "You gonna name it?"

I shrugged, knowing not everybody did name their weapons. "I don't know. Anyway, where were we?"

"Oh, right," he said, turning his gaze from my sword back to my eyes. "Now, when approaching an enemy, it's best to hold your ground. When you're locked in a sword fight, you might step forward to thrust, but always return to the same spot and the same stance. It's your go-to. Hold your ground. Back up only if you need to, and even then, don't break stance. Like it's a dance."

To demonstrate, he stalked up towards me, keeping his feet the right distance with each stride and, when he got close enough that his sword could almost touch my shoulder, lunged.

I yelped and jumped back, shocked. The razor-sharp sword passed just inches from my throat, slicing through the air where I'd just been. But he didn't stop. The golden arch flew at me again, fast as lighting, forcing me to react.

My sword went up instinctively, and I shoved his sword back. He used the momentum to come straight at me again. I dodged to one side and tried to turn but lost my footing, tripping over my own feet, and went sprawling onto the rocks and dirt.

He sighed, looking up at the bright sun overhead. "You didn't keep stance."

"I know that!" I spat, coughing and raising myself to my feet again. I still ached from the night before, though my headache had faded. Now I felt it coming back.

Brook shoved the end of her sword into the dirt and let it stand there on her own. "You forgot the stance because you weren't on the balls of your feet. Keep light an easy," she suggested.

I shot her a glare. "Since when were _you _an expert?"

"Hey, hey," Ethan said, waving our argument aside. "Brook, would you like to try?"

She said no, but that didn't stop him. Her swing at it didn't go much better than mine, but I couldn't find satisfaction in it.

Ethan stared down at where she lay sprawled in the dust. "You really want that bow, don't you?"

"Yes!" she spat, glaring at him with fire in her eyes. "More than you want to please that psychotic idiot like you're his little Chihuahua! Looking for a treat, pretty boy?"

He looked ready to lop her head off for that, but fortunately I'd been in situations like this before. Too far to jump in the way, I resorted to my voice, which could be pretty darn loud when I wanted it to. I forced a blistering tone past my tongue. "_Stop _it! Both of you!"

Ethan glanced at me, shocked I could raise my voice as loud as Hunter's. Brook hissed angrily.

I glared at her. "You mess with the bull, you get the horns. Don't bait him like that unless you _want _your head detached from your shoulders."

She sighed and glared up at him, abandoning their spat. "Give me a knife. If I have to learn close-quarters combat, I think I'd do better with a dagger or something."

He sighed and waved towards the rack of spare weapons to one side. "Take your pick, then."

As she left, he turned on me. "Now, where were we?"

I raised my sword. "Battle stance?"

He leveled his own, and for the first time I saw something engraved along its base. "Right." And, without further conversation, he lunged.

The movement, for some strange reason, was familiar. He hadn't tried this move before, but I knew it. The colors seemed to zoom into focus again, each detail highlighted, his lunge put into slow motion. Seeing a sword come flying at my face really turned on the adrenaline.

I leapt to one side and immediately swung at him from the side. He managed to parry at the last moment, a look of surprise crossing his face. My balance came easily this time. He came back with an overhand and I struck his sword aside, and feeling pretty good, went on the offense. I started with a thrust, aiming straight for him. Looking back on it, it was pretty stupid, seeing as my sword could've easily killed him.

But Ethan was better than that. His dodge came swifter than I could think. I ducked past his strike, which came out of nowhere, and whirled on him again. There was a loud crash as our blades locked.

I pressed back on him, gasping for breath. He was stronger. His hilt was slowly inching back towards my face, along with both swords. The glint of his dark green eye seemed to dance, a light I hadn't seen in him before. Thrill, I recognized.

I scowled and, knowing there was only one escape, dropped and rolled to one side. I leapt to my feet again just as fast – he'd taught us how to fall and get up again earlier while fist-fighting. I barely made it in time to parry his strike, and before I knew what was going on, he lunged again. But he'd stopped being careful – he wasn't going to stop. His sword flung at my chest with deadly accuracy.

Falling back on instinct, panic, and adrenaline, I spun not fast enough to dodge but just enough to get my sword up there. From the unexpected angle and my momentum behind it, my sword slammed into his. The blade twisted in my wrist and, with a fatal _clang,_ his bronze weapon landed on the stones.

My sword swung up and froze in the air, the tip under his chin, less than a centimeter from his exposed throat.

He wasn't breathing as hard as I was and had hardly broken a sweat, but his eye was wide in shock. Not really sure what had happened, I glanced around, trying to process the bronze blade lying on the ground, and wondering how it'd gotten there. Certainly not because of me.

His gaze met mine and, so small I almost missed it, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. The light reflecting off his eye highlighted a streak of dark green. That's when I realized what'd happened, staring at the light and shadows on his face.

Approaching from a different angle after attacking Brook, he'd forced me back, and we'd fought the whole thing under the protection of the castle's massive shadow.

_***end***_

Nic: Ooh, pissy Ethan!

Nyx: Yes. PO'd Ethan.

Nic: Ethan thanks all you those who review out there! I know he sounds mad, but he loves you all!

Nyx: Oooh! I love you more! So keep reviewing!

Nic: …

Nyx: What?

10


	11. Playing with Diamonds

DISCLAIMER: We do not own the PJatO series. Rick Riordan does. The characters Brook, Hunter, Bree, and the unnamed dark-haired kid belong to us. The rest are also Rick Riordan's.

_***begin***_

"You might want to keep that out and ready," Ethan reminded me as I slipped my eraser into my pocket.

I cast him a sideways glance. "She wants her parentage a secret until Kronos says it's common knowledge," Brook answered for me. "The metal's a dead giveaway."

Ethan shook his head. "Not really. It's odd, yes, and some might sense its magic. But nobody has seen or heard of that metal for the past seventy years, until now. No one will connect it to Hades, Pluto, or the Underworld.

"Hm," I mused, deciding that if I had no reason to hide it I wasn't going to risk the dining hall unarmed.

As the demigods were still trickling in, no monsters had gathered yet. We silently marched past the tables and ominous wooden boxes to the same seats we'd sat in the day before. Hunter wasn't there yet.

She showed up late, carving a path through the tables moments before the demons were to be set loose. Kronos was behind her.

As he stood on our table and called the demons in, she sat down and smiled at us. Her face was red and she was sweating from her afternoon of training. By the look on her face, it'd gone well.

Kronos announced our tragic but heroic defeat at Camp Half-Blood, and that he'd elaborate more tomorrow. Taking the Serpent Queen's place would be a snake-lady named Michelle, as the original had fallen in the battle. Then he stepped off the table, leaving us to eat.

Hunter started talking immediately. "My scythe turns into all sorts of weapons. Kronos showed me how to make it change forms." She gently touched her pencil, which rested behind her ear.

Ethan frowned. "It does?"

"Mm-hm. Hecate had to help cast the enchantment."

"Imagine that," he muttered.

Hunter, refusing to surrender her good mood, grabbed a potato chip and popped it into her mouth. "So how was your day?" she asked through it. Pieces of fried mush landed on Ethan's plate.

But Ethan didn't seem to be intimidated by her table manners, or lack of thereof. "Hectic. Had to chase down a bunch of idiotic runaways in way over their heads. Now don't talk to me."

"Brook and I learned some sword-fighting," I said before she could retort back at him. My fingers played with the hilt – the short, jagged, leaf-shaped blade leaned against my legs.

"I sucked at it," Brook added.

"Oh, psh," Hunter said. "You're good with the bow, though – I bet you could shoot out his last eye from a hundred yards, easy. While standing on one foot."

"Don't make me kill you," Ethan spat.

Hunter rolled her eyes. "Anyway, did you try magic again?"

My laugh came out more like a bark. "Nope."

"Ethan told her that if she kept poofing around, she'd kill herself," Brook provided

Now Hunter's gaze turned cold. "Ah. And he's an expert?"

"_He _knows that people have died shadow traveling _alone._ I'm surprised she lived after dragging all three of you to _China._ The nectar probably saved your life, so if you're smart, you won't try it again."

"So you're saying that she's impressive compared to the average?" Hunter smiled at him.

Clearly not liking the way she turned his words, he scowled and stabbed at his salad. The leaves were a strange species I couldn't identify.

"You know, that's probably your biggest advantage to being less human,' Brook mused after five minutes of silence.

"Hm?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Stamina. It's hard to outlast an enemy who's got more than you do."

_***space***_

"Pringles."

"Lay's."

"No way."

"Yes way. Pringles tasted processed and flat."

"You're healthier for you."

"Hunter, they're chips," Brook pointed out before I could develop another argument. "Neither are healthy, really."

"Yes," I said, using her genius to my advantage. "So health is ruled out – it comes down to taste. Lay's wins."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Taste is an opinion. So technically, it's a tie."

Since it's not every day Hunter agrees to – let alone suggests – a compromise, I let it drop. "So have you guys seen the Black Wall?"

It was too dark to see them, but I knew their voices so well I could tell where their bunks were without looking, and even that Brook was lying the wrong way on hers. "Yep. It's neat, in a scary awe-inspiring way."

"I haven't," Hunter admitted. "But Kronos told me about it."

"What'd he say?" I asked, rolling over and squinting in her direction.

"Well, not much about the wall, aside from its properties. Stygian iron, he called it. It's your sword and there's a sliver on my scythe. It's a dangerous metal forged in the Styx and intertwined with Underworld magic. Only Hades, his children, and some minions can forge it without being killed, though I'm sure Hephaestus has a few tricks to using it as well, god of forges and all."

I tensed. Kronos had either found an old Stygian iron sword, which might be possible, or he'd had people killed to make it, which might also be possible.

Well, great. It was like finding out your wedding ring was made with a blood diamond.

"…Then what else did he talk about?" Brook asked.

"It's creator and other dangerous demigods to watch out for. You know, the ones that want to murder us. Making friends, everywhere we go."

"Tell us about them," I said. "I want to know if an assassin shows up." And to forget the subject of Stygian iron.

She chuckled. "Well, first there was Percy Jackson. Everybody knows him. Dark hair, white but kind of tanned, leave-shaped bronze sword with wave engravings. There's Annabeth Chase, Thalia Grace, Charles Beckendorf…"

_***space***_

"So," I said as I parried his strike, "Have you ever encountered an enemy demigod? In the Labyrinth?"

"Ethan scowled and parried my own attempt, then spun around for a different angle. "Yes. I used to live at Camp Half-Blood, remember?"

"Right," I said, nimbly dodging the sword. Behind me, there was a sharp _thwang _as Brook released the bowstring, quickly followed by the solid_ thud_ of the arrow in the target.

His next move was just a little too fast for me. My sword wrenched from my grip and went skidding across the cobblestones. I looked up at his grimace and realized he wasn't going to elaborate even if I begged.

Around us were the sounds of others dueling, attacking dummies, practicing their aim, and a few using magic. We had moved to the main training courtyard/center thing on the second day of training. It had been a week since the Battle of the Labyrinth. I had stopped jumping at every sound, but screams and the roaring clash of hundreds of swords still haunted all our dreams.

Ethan sighed and looked around. He had promised us that we'd work with magic today. We had tried a bit the day before, but I had found that without the encouragement of a life-and-death situation I was about as talented as a human. He still had us both practice without weapons every day and continued to teach us new moves now and then.

Now, he waved over the dark-haired kid who sat near us at dinner. "This kid is a son of Hecate," Ethan told us. He turned and entered the palace again, waving for all three of us to follow.

We wound through the halls until we came back to that same isolated, dusty clearing. The dark-haired son of Hecate gave Ethan a puzzled look as Brook and I took our usual positions in front of him.

He gave the kid a glare. "You and I are going to teach them magic."

The kid sighed and leaned against the wall, agreeing to stay and waiting for Ethan to continue.

He turned to us and ignored the newcomer while he spoke. "Magic is usually first mad known to a demigod by accident. People say that it's closely tied to your mental and emotional state and your physical only through them. They often discover it as a reflex, like you did, Brianna."

"Not my name," I muttered.

"Bree. Right. Anyway, when magic is taught, the teacher often replicates a stressful situation to spark that magic reaction and make the demigod aware of their hold on it. Kronos did that the other night. The next step is not learning all your powers, what they do, or how to use them."

"it's control," the dark-haired kid jumped in, seeming a little happier now that we were on the topic. "Without control, your powers will be useless, and you'll more than likely kill yourself and your allies." Ethan shot me a pointed glance.

The newcomer stepped forward, raising his hands. "Let's get started."

_***space***_

The son of Hecate studied me carefully even after I'd finished. Not that the movement had been visible to him, anyway.

Finally, his unnaturally light turquoise eyes snapped up to meet mine. "You're not a demigod, are you?"

"No," Ethan, Brook, and I all admitted at once.

The boy nodded curtly. "Well, I'm the last person about to ask for details. But just how different are you?"

I shifted nervously, not sure how to respond to that.

He shrugged. "Well, nevertheless, you're a child of the Big Three." He motioned to my sword. "Can you control the shadows without becoming one?"

"Um…"

He held out his open palm and, above it, a dark green flame burst into existence. "Can you do this with the shadows?"

"Oh, sure. I do that all the time. You know, 'cause that's the way everyone spends their spare minutes. Done with homework? Just light your hand on fire. No biggie."

"Well, you're going to try now,' he decided. "Be very careful. Close your eyes. Now, remember how you felt when Kronos forced Shadow Form out of you. Your magic abilities are just like another limb, and your link to it is your mind. Now, slowly… Keep your breathing even. Now, gently, gather that memory in your palm. Let it fester a moment. Let it turn into energy…"

I let out a long breath and focused, but instead of the memory of Kronos I concentrated on how shadow travel had felt. The world's dark shades, the breath-taking chill, the exhilarating wind. The amazing rush. The unexplainable feeling rising in my chest as shadows whizzed by at stunning speeds, bright flashes here and there. The feeling that I was faster than all of them, than anything…

That's a hard thing to fit into your palm.

Shadows didn't answer to anyone. They were there whether you wanted them or not. There was always a side of you and your world that the light didn't touch just as brightly no matter what. The shadows were not to be controlled.

However, they were confined to their place. The sun did dictate where their rule took place. Slowly, my hand guided by something much too ancient to be instinct, turned to one side so that my palm was in the shade. I didn't have to look to know – I could feel it, the energies buzzing like a swarm of icy bees.

My eyes slowly opened, knowing what I'd see. My heart began to beat faster. Swirling around my hand was a thick, impenetrable black mist. In it I could feel the same chill of shadow travel, numbing my skin to all but its too-eager purr.

The boy raised his eyebrow. "Is your hand still solid?"

I lifted a finger, and its alabaster tip peeked out of the top of the mist, looking (thankfully) very solid.

"Good," the boy said. "Now shape it into a sphere."

I blinked, confused. He hadn't told me how to do that.

When I voiced the thought, though, he just said, "Figure it out yourself," and turned to Brook.

Figure it out?

Hogwarts, I decided, was not what it seemed in the movies.

Though I'd have given anything to ask Snape for some advice right then, I concentrated on the shadows in my hand. They reacted to my thoughts – when my attention turned to them, they flexed happily, as if no one had noticed them in a long time. It was a strange form of content. Not exactly eager to please, but… something else. Show off, maybe. They were sick of being locked in their timely cages.

However, they would have to put up with being confined for a little while longer. The image of a globe filled my mind. I flexed my fingers, watching them react, playing with them. Then I forced on them the image of my sphere. I pulled and twisted, and, eventually, they fell into shape.

"She's got it," Ethan told the boy before I had time to cry out in excitement. Reacting to my emotions, the shadows swelled and writhed energetically, and I had to focus to hold them.

The boy nodded without looking. "Okay. Now try a cube."

My shock of the sight – glowing fingers, on my little Brook – set the shadows shooting everywhere, almost taking Ethan's head off, but I scrambled to regain control and got it quickly. He glared at me and I smiled sheepishly, then focused on my cube.

I found this time, having stepped into the sunlight earlier, that they were easier to shape and mold in the light. But they were much harder to summon and hold them in this misty form, because shadows don't form in sunlight.

Once I'd gone from sphere to cube to diamond to cylinder to cone and back, I turned to the boy again, awaiting my newest command. He'd said we'd try something a bit more complex now.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Ethan didn't give him a chance. He pointed at a tree not much bigger than he was. "Target practice," he said flatly. "Hit it."

The boy's eyes widened. "Are you crazy?! Don't-!"

But I'd already flung the shadows. The idea of using them for something was too sweet. I could defy the sun. I could send them shooting through the light, across the yard, and into that tree. And I wanted to.

It didn't provide the same lovable adrenaline rush of shadow travel, but something darker. The shadows slammed into the tree without a sound and, equally as silent, the leaves wilted and the slender trunk snapped and the color leached out of it faster than I could blink. The leaves and break site crumbled to ash as the tree crumbled before me.

…Oh…

Ethan's smile was huge. "_That _was awesome! Way to go!"

"That was _not!"_ The dark-haired kid roared back. I was still too shocked to speak. "That was uncontrolled, premature, and reckless.' He rounded on Ethan. "That is _not _how we use magic, and much less how we teach it!"

Magic, as was explained to me later, is not something to use unwisely, especially in front of an expert to whom every wrong and dangerous move is highlighted.

Ethan, though younger, towered over the dark-haired figure menacingly. His dark green eye glinted dangerously. "Maybe not where you're from," he said slowly, "but this is how we do things _here._ This is how magic is done while you're on Mount Othrys. And it's taught to these two the way _I _want it to be taught."

The shorter boy stood his ground and held Ethan's glare with an equal of his own. But, at a loss for words and therefore a reply, he was the first to turn away. He stalked across the clearing to me.

I was still shell-shocked, horrified by the destruction of the tree and Ethan's tone and scared that they'd start fighting. But the boy just grabbed my hand gently, met my eyes, and said, "You have a gift. On your free time, keep practicing. Once you have basic shapes mastered, try more complex shapes. Like a dog, perhaps, or a face. When you have those down, add motion. Make the dog run and the face talk until you know your grip on magic better than you know the back of your hand. But while you're formally training, you'd be better off listening to him." He jerked his head in Ethan's direction, straightened, and strode into the palace.

Ethan snorted and rolled his eyes. "That's enough magic for today, I think. Let's go back to the sword and the bow."

As I reached for my sword, Brook's wide eyes met mine, and I wondered what had changed the boy's mind about listening to Ethan.

_***end***_

**ATTENTION! READ!**

Nyx: Helloooooo, people! I apologize for being a couple hours late again! Something came up last night that I had no control over, and I got to bed around midnight. I was rushing this morning to fix these chapters, because they had been spaced wrong and too short, and get this up here. I apologize for the inconvenience, but we have big news!

Nic: As you may have noticed, our current penname is "Firebird4ever." This was kind of just an idea that was slapped onto the account because we needed a name and didn't have anything specific in mind. But now we do. So we're going to change it – but **changing the penname means changing the url**, so listen up, and we'll tell you how to get here next week.

Nyx: Next week, late Friday night, I will change the penname. So on Saturday, you must look us and our story up on G (oogle) to find us. Look up, "Nic-n'-Nyx, *FFN's home url* Daughter of Darkness – Rebels." Or search the story in FFN's search engine. The new user name will be Nic-n'-Nyx, for obvious reasons. Resave us to your favorites next week or wherever else you have our url stored or fix however you usually get here. If you have questions post them in a review and we will update today's last chapter to have the answer.

Nic: Remember, we're changing the name THIS FRIDAY, not today or over the rest of the week, so until you come to find us Saturday morning, we will STILL be Firebird4ever. You can read the rest of today's chapters just fine.

Nyx: Okay, as far as the story, we're into the rising action. Keep reading! We are going to give you a ride you'll enjoy, I promise.

Nic: That sounded wrong.

Nyx: I was pretending it didn't, thank you very much.

Nic: You're welcome! Xp


	12. Anonymous

DISCLAIMER:

Ethan: Hey, look at this. *picks up _The Lightning Thief_* How do you say the author's last name? Rir…. Rio…

Nic: However you want…. *smiles*

Nyx: Riordan.

Nic: Don't tell him what to do!

_***begin***_

"Nakamura."

Ethan turned in his seat, startled to hear Kronos over the din of the feasting monsters. The Lord of Time stood a few yards away, bending one finger to beckon him and looking very impatient.

He didn't wan tto talk to Kronos, but he also didn't want to anger the Titan further, so he got up and hurried over, glancing behind him at the other demigods before he went.

Kronos raised an eyebrow, making his scar dance. "So, how has your day gone?"

Ethan wasn't sure what'd surprised him more; the fact that the monsters hadn't noticed him and Kronos isolated from the others or the amazingly ordinary question that he'd just been asked.

"Well?" Kronos prompted.

His scowl enticed Ethan to answer. "Fine, my lord. Brook no longer insists on shooting at me." The biggest news of the day.

Kronos nodded thoughtfully. "That's good. You said they learned magic today? I gave Hunter the basics so she wouldn't be left out. How did it go?"

"Fine, my lord."

"Fine? No interesting news to report?"

"Oh," Ethan said, finally realizing what he was after. "Bree has potential with her shadow thing."

"Potential enough to use her as I wish?"

"She destroyed your tree," Ethan offered, solely because it'd more likely please than upset him. Hopefully.

Kronos's gaze went distant. "Good. Good. No trouble?"

"Not at all," Ethan said, glancing back at the table, where the dark-haired son of Hecate was doodling on a napkin and showing Bree how certain glyphs could be used to amplify, direct, or control spells. The conversation looked quite animated, with Brook and Hunter leaning in to see._ I can handle a strong-willed demigod on my own_, he decided, and didn't say anything.

As Bree stole the napkin and began to doodle, Ethan noticed the boy's bag situated inconspicuously at his feet, clearly not empty but not full. What, did he bring all his stuff with him everywhere? The dining hall was a pretty big risk for that. Ethan made the quiet wish that the annoying kid's stuff got eaten and turned back to Kronos, who was also looking at the girls and their new friend.

"Nakamura?" Kronos drawled, his eyes landing on the bag.

"Yes, my lord?"

"I have something to do tomorrow. Will you take Hunter as well?"

"Yes, my lord," Ethan said even though Hunter intimidated him, because on Mount Othrys, you did what the Crooked One asked you to.

_***space***_

"Hey," Ethan said, catching us on our way out of the dining hall and thoroughly ignoring our dark-haired buddy, who now wore a sad smile for a reason I couldn't identify. "Kronos said I have all three of you tomorrow. He's got something to do."

"Yes!" Brook cried, pumping her fist in the air. A smile split my face.

Hunter hid her excitement and gave Ethan a sly smile. It had the effect she wanted – he glanced around and shifted nervously.

"Well, I gotta go," the dark-haired kid said, leaving us to our good news. He gave us one last smile over his shoulder. "Y'all take care."

"Will do," I said, waving, but he'd disappeared into thin air. Literally. It wasn't until then that I realized I hadn't caught his name.

As we said bye to Ethan and made our way back to our room, I asked Brook and Hunter if they knew. They both shrugged and shook their heads – I'd have to ask him tomorrow.

When we got back to the dorm, Brook asked Hunter if she'd learned any magic. And of course Hunter's reply was, "Pssh! Like I'd spoil the surprise! You'll have to wait until tomorrow!"

Immediately came my promise not to show her my own magic until the next day, and then Brook said she wasn't going to show Hunter her glowing fingers, either. For the rest of the night we sent each other sly looks, bursting into laughs when our gazes met for more than a minute with uncontrolled glee.

That night, though, under the cover of darkness, I called on the shadows again. The cool mist tickled my hand, purring, as if it were alive. Holding them, it was hard to believe they were shadows. The absence of sunlight – the absence of anything. They were _something._

Right then, I was happy. The Battle of the Labyrinth was a million miles away. I had my sisters. I had a home – a place where they were, a place I'd stay in for more than a year, a place I knew my way around. I was caught in some sort of excitement every day. And – amazingly – I had magic. That thrilled me beyond belief. For once, I had a purpose. I had a life.

Lost on a mysterious mountain with my sisters, holding beautiful darkness in my palm, for the first time in my existence I felt purely happy.

_***space***_

That night, I dreamed.

I hadn't but small flashes since we arrived at Mount Othrys, and those were my memories of the battle. This was crystal clear. Sure, the colors and shadows were a little obscured by darkness, but each sound was sharp and the feel of a breeze and my feet lightly running along the floor were perfect. I could even feel myself breathing, my heart pounding to a panicked rhythm in my chest.

It was dark. I kept running, though, because it was too late to turn back. Twice I tripped and fell on my face. Scraping it on the rough stone stung, but I didn't hesitate to leap up and keep going.

_Crack._ A pebble falling behind me. It was the kind of sound a human would dismiss. But not me, someone inhuman, being chased by something even less human.

Crap. They were on to me. But no matter what'd happen, I'd sent the message already. She'd know what happened to me, if I was dead or alive, captured or free, and if she was in danger. And if she was, she'd run.

Another sound. I ran faster, my legs numb, pack bouncing on my back.

Before I got very far, the ground beneath my bare feet changed from rock to grass. I skidded to a halt, horrified, staring at the flowerbeds and praying I hadn't stepped too far, into the plush green stalks, hadn't gotten too close…

From the darkness in front of me came a low, menacing growl. But it was farther off. Too far to be after me. Man, that'd been too close…

Another growl behind me made the hairs on the back of my neck stand. It was quieter, closer, colder.

Deadlier.

My breath picked up, panic sinking in, as a hand clamped down on my shoulder. It wasn't friendly. I screamed, thrashing, but the hand moved to my waist and another hand clamped on my mouth-

-And I woke up in a cold sweat, breathing hard.

I looked around nervously. Hunter was beginning to stir, and Brook was sitting up, blinking rapidly.

I sighed, shook it off, and got to my feet. Time to get up, anyway.

_***space***_

"So, what's Blondie up to this fine and lovely morning?" I asked, following Ethan and several others to the center courtyard for training. Hunter and Brook followed on our heels.

"I don't know,' Ethan said with a shrug. "It's not my business, nor yours. And personally I don't care what you call him when you're alone, but around me and others and definitely him, you might want to call him by his name."

I snorted. "Fine, alright. Lord Kronos. Got it."

"He's not that bad," Hunter piped up. Crap. I'd forgotten that it was her father we were talking about.

"We'll decide that once we see what he's taught you,' Ethan smiled, his first attempt at humor since we'd met him. He pointed at the training dummies, and our usual practice began. Hunter moved like she was liquid, like the scythe was just another limb, with so much grace she made the most basic moves look complex but frustratingly easy at the same time because you knew you couldn't do them that way.

All of a sudden I longed to know all that Kronos had taught her. To spend a full day training together. No, not a full day – a full week.

Even better than her (but more familiar by now) was Ethan. Rather than timeless, he kept a perfect beat, using moves I could hardly comprehend.

As for Brook, the target bulls-eye she was using now resembled a porcupine.

Eventually we started magic, though. First we demonstrated what we already knew. I set my hand ablaze with shadows so quickly Ethan started in surprise, hand flashing to his sword hilt in a brief moment of panic.

Hunter's eyes widened and she threw her arms wide, inclining everyone to look at the wonder that was my hand. And, in her best Hagrid impression (which was pretty dang good) yelled, "YOU'RE A WIZARD, HARRY!"

Brook proved that she could make her fingers glow but not much else. Hunter had practiced the day before how to control her powers and basic strategy to speed up her reflexes, freezing disks that were shot at her from their launchers. Like that shooting game people like to play, only she was the target and she better not miss.

"So, where's our magic buddy?" I asked, looking around for him and excited to know what mind-blowing thing he'd teach me next.

"He's not coming today," Ethan said simply. "Now, I was thinking that we could have Brook fire arrows near – not at – Hunter to kinda replicate the reflex and control exercise. It was a good idea."

"I don't get to use magic?" Brook asked, disheartened.

"Later," Ethan assured her, a glint of amusement in his eye. "Bree, I don't care what shape you make it, but I want you to practice moving a shadow-ball-thingie around. Don't blow anything up, but see how fast you can go and how many obstacles you can dodge."

"Cool," I said, already drawing memories of the shadows to the front of my mind.

We kept playing around like this for a while. I got a kick out of sending my shadows in circles around Ethan's head. When lunch rolled around, we waited eagerly for our Hecate buddy to show up, but either he didn't or he sat somewhere else today. Nevertheless, while Ethan's back was turned, we planned. And when we returned to the training session, we set that hilarious plan into action. It's times like this when you wish you had a camera.

Five shots back into play, Brook turned her bow off Hunter and onto Ethan. He yelped and danced out of the way, sword raised to deflect, but the first arrow was purposely flung wide. The next was more on-target.

His sword was a blur as he deflected it, then a second and third. But from behind him a ball of shadows rapidly approached, whizzing past his face so fast he stumbled.

He sent me a dirty look as he tripped but regained his footing. A tad too late, though. The next arrow shot with deadly accuracy straight at him, and he had no time to deflect. It happened so fast –

-And then the arrow froze right in front of his chest, then dropped lifelessly to the ground, reminded me a lot of a textbook.

It took two seconds for us to burst out laughing at the look still on his face. Hunter mimicked it.

He scowled. "Oh. Okay, very funny. That's fair, four to one. How about we play it the right way? Where's your dignity?"

"Up my-" Hunter began.

"Nope!" I cut her off, still half-lost in my hysterics.

There was a slick clash as Ethan's blade locked on her scythe. She stopped laughing real fast and stared at him with wide, sharp golden eyes. "Funny," he said, a new, playful light dancing in his eye. "Care to put it where your mouth is?"

She pulled her blade back and swung it around from the side with blinding speed that shocked even me, but he easily parried it. She flashed a grin, golden eyes bright. "Bring it, shorty."

So she _had _noticed that he was just an inch taller.

He made the next move, and she dove in for another, and suddenly the fight had begun. We scrambled back to give them space. People began to stop what they were doing, one by one, and turned to watch as well. Ethan was steady and unfaltering, always balanced. Hunter was water trying to slip through his cracks, large scythe swinging in all kinds of deadly, beautiful ways.

People began to cheer, and to my surprise, I found myself being one of them. An indescribable feeling had taken a hold of me. A good feeling. Brook and I called out for Hunter, urging her on and cheering when she gained a little ground, but we were all clapping our hands to Ethan's strict beat. The afternoon sun highlighted the crowd and the empty air around them. It lit up Ethan and Hunter's outlines perfectly, glinting against the metal to give their instruments of destruction an elegant, heart-stopping beauty. It showed us how each move was crafted, smooth and perfect, like a dangerous dance. Poetry in motion. I hadn't ever seen this before. This was not what I'd gotten from the Battle of the Labyrinth – not this at all.

It happened so fast. Like the blink of an eye. I didn't see how he did it exactly, but suddenly he was there, past her guard. Her scythe clattered on the ground and his sword, the sunlight glaring off the flat side, leveled itself with her throat.

Silence held us all there, in that picture-perfect moment, helping the sunlight engrave it into each memory. Then, as if on cue, the yard erupted into cheers and battle cries and shouts. Movement exploded around us as people turned back to their original tasks with renewed vigor from watching the duel. They'd been inspired, too, I realized.

Ethan smiled, sheathed his sword, and held out his hand. She gave him her wicked grin and shook it, promising, "Next time."

"Good luck," he said smugly, dusting his sword off. She grabbed her scythe and examined the blade cautiously. Unlike a human's sword would have been, either was dented from their exchanged blows. Enchanted metal, obviously.

Ethan stretched, straightened, and strode to the door. "Y'all stay here. I'm going to go find something that might help us discover Brook's magic. She'll be able to work with this." His dark eye flickered to her, and I saw eagerness in his gaze. We, along with our powers, now interested him. Not as much as we did Hecate's son, but still. "Artemis has a knack for healing poisons with magic. Be back in a sec."

As he left Brook pumped her small fist in the air. "Yes! I knew I wasn't a dud!"

Hunter chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and ruffling her wavy brown curls. "You weren't ever a dud, stupid."

I smiled at the sight of them. That amazing feeling was still in my chest, the one that said this day would be remembered for years to come. And another feeling, one less pleasant, promising that my bladder wasn't going to forget it, either. "Hey, you think he'd care if I hit the bathroom real quick?"

"We won't tell," Brook promised, eyes wide in that Bambi-eyed look she gave us just because she knew it'd make us melt.

"Thanks!" I called over my shoulder, because I was a bit too urgent to fall for it today. I sprinted into the castle.

I ran down the hallway and took a right, then left again, but hesitated. I must've missed my turn and took the wrong one – I didn't recognize this place.

So I backtracked and turned down the corridor I assumed was right, the duel still replaying before my eyes. This hallway looked like the right one. But the next turn brought me, once more, into unfamiliar territory.

I sighed roughly. Maybe the next turn. I tried it, then a few more, and eventually had to admit it. I was lost. The few doors down this corridor were steel and had no numbers, so they were no help.

A couple bends later, I finally thought I recognized something. It hit me a moment later – this was the hallway Kronos had led us down that first night to get our weapons, with Ethan on our heels. Yes, that steel looked familiar now. This was promising – if I could find the room we'd been in, I could trace my way to our dorm from there, and then back to the bathrooms and the training area. If I hurried, maybe even shadow traveled a bit, perhaps I'd be back before Ethan and no one would be the wiser.

There. I recognized the door easily, though there wasn't much to separate it from the others. It just felt right. To be sure, though, I opened the door to check the room and the scars I'd seen on its interior the last time.

The first thing I noticed; the scars were there, along with several other markings along the walls. This was definitely the same room.

The second thing; the blood was no longer just stains. Real pools were pooled on the concrete floor and splattered on the walls. A horrible feeling gathered in the pit of my stomach.

The third thing I notice unleashed a flurry of memories in front of me before I could consciously register it. An averted gaze, a calm and gentle hand, a leading and steady voice, dazzling eyes, words of wondrous magic and runes and talent and a pencil rapidly sketching on a napkin, a bag at his feet, shaggy dark hair. Pale skin now bruised, beaten, cut, and bloody. Dark hair now a mess and soaked in the muck. A bag torn to pieces, strewn everywhere among its scattered contents and its broken owner. Frozen, sightless, blank, dead bright turquoise eyes I couldn't face and not hate myself for never asking his name.

In the back of the room, highlighted in the eerie illumination of the single light bulb and lying still as death in a pool of his own blood, lay the missing son of Hecate.

_***end***_

Nyx: *smiles evilly* How many of you saw that coming? *cough* Answer in a review *cough*

Nic: I liked the original layout of the chapters better.

Nyx: I did, too. This group of chapters was originally shorter, and this was supposed to be the end of the third. Kronos's conversation with Ethan was supposed to be the end of the second. I liked the breaks being placed there, not only that but so we could get reviews from each place rather than just now at the end. Though of course if you want to go back and tell us your thoughts as you read the entire chapter, go ahead do it. We're not stopping you.

Nic: So, want to know what happens next?

Nyx: Well, duh. Tell us what you think, though, guys! You're so silent and it's scaring me! Thanks to all who did review. But keep on telling us how we're doing! Review as a reader or a fellow writer, however you want, but we'd love to see what you think!

Nic: I also liked this being the end of the third chapter because then it'd be a cliffy.

Nyx: Me, too. But don't worry guys! I will leave you with plenty of cliffhangers! I'm good at those.

Nic: I am well aware…


	13. Ghosts

DISCLAIMER:

Nyx: Yay! Fanfiction!

Nic: Yay! Rick Riordan!

Nyx: Oooh! I know where he lives!

Nic: And I know that he wrote the PJatO series. Big whop.

_***begin***_

"_Oh, my gods! Are you okay?!"_A stupid question. The first words to burst past my panicked tongue.

He just kept staring blankly at me. An awful feeling threatened to make my lunch reappear, churning in my gut.

Slowly, shaking from the shock and panic, I stepped forward. The blood, still fresh, rippled around my shoe. It had formed in pools on the uneven concrete.

I broke down. I ran. I sprinted to his side, dropped to my knees, and shook his shoulders roughly. His head, limp, banged sickeningly against the stone.

He dropped from my hands and I stared in horror. He was dead. Dead. Oh, crap…

I swallowed thickly past the familiar sickly-sweet scent in my throat and brushed those wonderful, bright eyes closed. My hand shook dangerously.

My gaze landed on the bloody floor and ripped bag, then to his equally shredded black-and blue skin. You didn't bleed and bruise like that when you were dead. This had happened before he died. But it wasn't battle wounds, the slash of a sword or evenly-spaced claw marks. These were wounds in strategized places as to get as many as possible on there. This… He'd been tortured.

Tortured. Oh, gods, tortured. Why me?

I was hyperventilating now, glancing around wildly. No. They'd said this was a training room. But it was the same room. There was no doubt about it.

I felt dizzy and sick. A loud buzzing had erupted in my ears. My lunch really was on the verge of coming up now. My heart raced faster than a wildfire. I had to move. To escape. I couldn't stay here – had to run, fast as shadows – away – don't care where, just not _here…_

…Dorm 333. It materialized around me. I stepped over my meager cot and, guided by fierce thought too ordered, sure and sane to be instinct, dug until I found a spare set of clothes and ripped them out of the chest. My current set was soaked in what's-his-face's blood, and it'd raise questions.

I threw on the clean set, drew my sword, and set out through the corridors once more.

Ethan gave me an exasperated look when I made it back to the courtyard. "And where have you been?" Annoyed but not accusing or cruel. Ha. That tone from him now was almost funny to me.

"Bathroom," I muttered, walking to the nearest dummy. I had always walked with a straight back and my head high, dignified except when alone with my sisters. But now I was consciously aware of it and their puzzled glances. Something was different now.

But I did not break my position.

Once I reached the dummy I began my usual sword routine, a new power behind each move. New passion. Anger – I let the dummy have it, gift-wrapped in my sword and tied with a scowl. A new energy surged and burned in my muscles. Each move with the sword became deadly.

I don't remember the specifics of that hour. It's a blur to me now. A confusing whirl of flying straw and bright turquoise eyes and a blood-soaked mess and the familiar, comforting feel of fluid unity with a blade. I really was fond of that little black sword.

The next thing I do remember is staring at the mangled mannequin, sword in hand but lowered so that the tip stuck into the cobblestones, a hand on my shoulder. Hunter. "You all right, there?"

"Not really," I murmured, in a daze, gazing at the wide gashes and scattered straw. The thing looked worse than our dark-haired friend had.

I cussed suddenly. I should've asked his _name…._

"Hey, Bree," Ethan said, jogging up. He glanced at the dummy and hesitated. "Nice work. You mad at something?"

"Yes," I spat, shoving past him. I wasn't about to listen to _anything _he had to say.

We marched to the dining hall in silence. I could tell Ethan's good mood was gone, probably because I snapped at him and he had no idea what he'd done. Brook and Hunter whispered quietly to one another. None of them said a word to me.

At dinner, his seat was empty again. Hunter and Brook searched the crowd for him.

"He's not coming," Ethan repeated when they asked.

My hand clenched on the tablecloth, beneath where they couldn't see. He knew, didn't he? All day, he'd known. And was perfectly fine with it, by the look on his stupid face.

Kronos came up then, ending our conversation. Apparently he was back from whatever errand had caused his absence. He stood on the table in front of Brook and faced the monsters. I guess she didn't like the view, because she looked away and sighed heavily.

"ATTENTION!" Kronos bellowed through his bullhorn. The demons and demigods quieted and turned to him expectedly.

The corner of his mouth twitched up when he saw us all staring attentively at him. "I have," he said slowly, "great news.

"Our loss just over a week ago at the Battle of the Labyrinth was morally devastating. We lost many soldiers. We lost our opportunity to take Camp Half-Blood. Freedom lost that day." He hesitated, every scrap of attention lighting the tension in the room as we waited for what came next. "But freedom, as many of you know, comes with a cost. When that price has been paid, what else is left but to take what you've paid for?"

Silence. We hung on every word.

"The price hasn't been paid in full," Kronos cautioned, "but I can guarantee you that once we are done, the Battle of the Labyrinth will be so insignificant in this war it'll be forgotten in a heartbeat. The enemy is too scared to come here! Do you realize what that means?"

He gazed around, looking at all sorts of eyes. Beady, wide, slit-pupil, human, goat-like, some with strange designs in the center. "It means that we hold all the cards. They are stuck where they are – we are the ones who decide when to attack, where, and just where we're chasing them to. They are no real threat to us. We can crush them like bugs now, or we can wait. For months. A year, if we wanted. We could sit here and prepare for war. When the battle for Olympus comes, they will be as bothersome as flies and nothing more. _We _control where this war goes! _We _are the ones in power! Don't _anyone _here think for one minute that the Battle of the Labyrinth means anything in my eyes and it sure as Styx shouldn't matter in yours!"

Silence as his voice echoed across the hall. After a moment, he spoke again. "That being said, I have drawn out our final plans. Tomorrow, each of the demigods and the leader of each monster legion will come to me for orders. You will do what I tell you, and as result, we will rule a better world one day."

There was silence until he crouched down and stepped off the table. Once we knew it was over, people began to cheer and clap. I wasn't one of them.

Kronos stopped behind Ethan and smiled at us as people returned to their dinner. "Oh, and you three. Don't announce it through a bullhorn," he chuckled, holding his up, "but if someone asks who your parents are, feel free to tell the truth. My concern of spies among us is no longer relevant. Not only do we have new… security, but honestly I'd love to see the look on Zeus's face when he knows what weapons we have." His smile widened and he turned to leave.

"Wait, my lord," Ethan said softly. Kronos stopped and turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "Are you hurt?"

Kronos's face contorted with confusion. "What?"

"Your arm."

Kronos looked down at his arms. Streaked across the right sleeve across the forearm was a mark of crimson. It screamed for attention on its white backdrop.

"Ah," Kronos said. "No, it was merely a scratch. I took care of it. I feel grateful for your concern, Nakamura, and hurt by your doubt. I will tell you if I need something of you, understood?"

"Yes, my lord." Ethan dipped his head.

Kronos smiled at him, then turned and left, weaving his way through the demons with ease.

Hunter snorted. "Well, that was awkward."

"What's your parentage?" Brianna asked, curious eyes wide. Ethan sighed, once more unhappy among so many people.

"I'm Kronos's daughter," Hunter said simply. She didn't mention Hades.

Brianna's fork slipped through her fingers and clattered on her plate. "Y-you're who?!"

"Kronos's daughter," she, Brook, and Ethan droned.

Brianna shook her head. "Wow. I had no idea he had any half-blood children. Aside from Chiron, if you want to count him."

"He's a centaur," Brook argued, "not a half-blood."

"I wonder what he saw so interesting about a horse," Hunter mused, gazing off in the direction Kronos had taken.

The image that created made everyone flinch, me included. I turned my attention from their conversation and stared at my plate. I'd grabbed some stroganoff-looking stuff off a platter. I loved stroganoff, don't get me wrong, and I was definitely hungry after using magic. But the thought of eating made my stomach turn over.

I closed my eyes, looking for refuge from the smells of food and loud chatter. But more evident was the smell of the monsters' meal. And even without it, I still saw things I didn't want to see behind my eyelids. Bright turquoise eyes. A nameless face.

Hunter nudged me gently. "You gonna eat?"

"No," I sighed. I shoved my plate towards her. "You can have it."

She gave me a concerned look and split my stroganoff with Brook. But she didn't question me further. Not here.

My gaze caught Ethan's from across the table. I was surprised – he'd been staring at me. His dark green eye held thoughts I couldn't decipher. He didn't look away when I caught him – he just kept staring.

"Can I help you with something?" I spat bitterly.

"….No, not really," he sighed. "Sorry. I was wondering what set you off. You know Hunter and I weren't really trying to kill each other earlier, right?"

"I'm not stupid," I muttered. He shrugged, giving up on the subject and picked at his own stroganoff.

I glanced to my right. That stool was still empty. And it remained like that throughout all of diner.

_***space***_

"Are you okay?"

I glanced behind me as Hunter shut the door gently. Relief washed through me briefly. At least I could count on her. She knew me so well, she'd known my anger was something deeper.

"No," I admitted, sinking onto my cot and putting my head in my hands. I felt Brook touch my shoulder gently.

Hunter sat down in front of me. "What's up?"

I opened my mouth to speak, gathering my memories to share them, but not a sound came out. I shuddered. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to describe what I'd seen? There were no words. No words for that same room. No words for those bright turquoise eyes, now sightless, and forever without a name…

To my utter astonishment, I broke out into sobs.

"Bree?" Hunter asked gently, trying to pull my hands from my face. "What's wrong?"

I shook my head. "We…. We have to get out," I gasped between sobs. "We can't… stay."

"Why not?" she murmured quietly.

I shook harder. I still had no words. "He… He was dead. …The training room, he was dead in there…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she said, so shocked her voice rose. "Back up. Who's dead?"

"The dark-haired boy. He… With the bright eyes."

Brook's hand tightened on my shoulder. "What…?"

"He's dead," I gasped, struggling to hold the sobs under control. "I got lost looking for the bathrooms. I wound up near the training room Kronos took us to get our weapons, so I thought I could trace my way back to our dorm from there, and I opened the door…"

"Are you sure?" Hunter asked.

"Yes. He was still and his eyes were open and… And there was blood everywhere. He was tortured first, Hunter," I groaned, on the verge of sobs again.

She hesitated. "…Tortured?"

I nodded miserably, unable to speak.

She sighed. "Who did it? Do you know?"

"I have theories."

"Then spill," Brook said.

My mind reached back, recalling everything I could. "I had a dream last night. Ethan said they're more to demigods than humans? I dreamed someone was running, and they got caught. Ethan knew all day long that he wasn't coming back. And Kronos had blood on his sleeve. But he's Kronos – if he bled, it'd be golden Ichor like all immortals, but he told us it was his own. He lied."

"It could've been anyone's," Hunter argued, her voice stiffening.

"Then if it was that innocent, why didn't he say that?"

"Maybe it was his blood," Brook said. "He's in the body of a demigod, remember?"

I shook my head. "No. I heard him in my dream. He was laughing. He's the one that caught the running guy, and that running guy was the son of Hecate. He even had a backpack. We have to leave before we get into trouble."

"Back up for a minute," Hunter insisted again. I stared at her. Her golden eyes had become fierce and sharp. "You have no solid confirmation on anyone's identity, except that the body was the son of Hecate's. That's all you know."

"No it's not!" I snapped. "They tortured him, Hunter! That's not just murder – that's…. That's…"

"You have no idea who did that," Hunter reminded me gently.

"It was Kronos! Isn't Ethan like his right-hand-man or something? The guy who presented his scythe? Wouldn't Ethan know what his little errand was? Kronos was gone all day, Hunter! It was him!"

"It was not!" she spat back, finally yelling. "It could've been anyone, Bree! Honestly it doesn't sound like something Ethan or Kronos would do."

"It doesn't," Brook agreed.

"It looks too suspicious," I argued. "Who else could it be?"

"Um, any random demon that decides it wanted a snack?" Hunter offered. "Some of them can even mimic voices."

"Those weren't a demon's marks, and demons don't torture their prey," I argued, remembering the one that'd stopped me from touching the Black Wall. "And when he was running, he was running from Kronos. Or so he thought. And what reason would he have to run from Kronos unless he had the intent to harm him?"

"You don't know it was the son of Hecate in your dream," Hunter said.

"He had a backpack."

"So do I."

"He was barefoot."

"Lots of people can take off their shoes."

"Gods, what do you have against me?!" I exploded, leaping to my feet. She followed quickly. "Why can't you just _listen?!"_

"I _am,_ and what you're saying makes no sense!" she fired back just as fast.

"Please don't fight," Brook protested weakly.

"You aren't! You refuse to listen when I tell you _I know what I'm saying!_ It was Kronos, and he caught the son of Hecate, and spent the whole day torturing him for gods-know-what!"

"How do you know?" Hunter growled, towering over me with her dark, stormy gold eyes. They were no longer bright. "Prove it. How do you know?"

"It just feels right!" I spat. "It does! I've known it since I saw that kid lying dead in a mess of his own blood. Even then, it was Kronos. I ignored Ethan all day because he knew what Kronos had done. There was no one else with the incentive!"

"Kronos has no incentive! He has no reason!"

"You know what hurts the most?" I spat, lowering my voice, too enraged to raise it. My whole body shook. Heat was gathered at the base of my throat. "You don't even care to admit it. You cover it with excuses. But you're still choosing your father, whom you've known for all of a week over me."

She snapped her mouth shut and glared. There was a full minute tension-filled silence, tighter than a drawn bowstring, before she spoke. "Don't you ever say that to me again."

"Why shouldn't I?" I spat. "I'm supposed to know about the dead, remember? The shadows and the ghosts? What if I can legitimately sense that it was Kronos? What if I'm right? I don't want to be, but I am. And now I have to be right _and _alone."

"You _aren't,_ and I'm not picking him over you! I'm picking reason over nonsense. You're overreacting."

"Overreacting?! I just found one of our friends – _our friends,_ and we didn't even know his name – tortured and dead, killed by someone we trust. How can I overreact to that?!"

"You do what you're doing now," she said evenly. "You have no proof of anything."

"_Why _do you keep saying that? Is my word not proof enough?"

She gave me a steady look. "No. It's not."

That hit home. Our word to one another had always been the utmost importance. Because it was us against the world. We'd believe the other if they insisted they'd been abducted by aliens. And now it meant nothing to her.

"Guys, stop it," Brook said sternly, her own growl working into her words.

I glared at Hunter. "_Fine._ I don't care if you believe me or not. Hunter would've. But not this – he's changed you. You're not Hunter anymore."

It was, after all, the only explanation. Hunter, the Hunter I'd known, had always been close as skin. We were sisters, and there was nothing anyone could do to any of us to change that. Yet here she was, staring me in the face, telling me I meant nothing.

She didn't say a word to me.

I glanced at Brook. "Look, even if he didn't do it – we have to get out of here. Someone did. And we could be next. I don't want… I don't want to find you in there next time…" The sobs came back.

"Bree," Brook began.

"No," Hunter said in a cold monotone that made her flinch. "No. We're not leaving. We have a life and a purpose here. Not to mention family. We're not going anywhere."

I stared at her, not entirely sure if I was still shocked by this point.

"We're not in danger here," Hunter went on. "Father has new orders for us tomorrow. We're going to be there, and we're going to follow them."

She had never, ever, called him that before.

"Hunter, please…" I rasped. "Trust me. You can tell me whatever you want. You can tell me that _you _did it, but… We can't stay here. Please. I want to leave."

Her gaze locked on mine. "I said no, Bree, and that's final. We're staying here."

The anger came back now, too. She'd even ignore me now. She'd brush away my concerns for our own safety. She really wasn't Hunter anymore, was she? "_You _are," I spat. "I'm going."

"No, wait!" Brook yelled. But I was already gone.

I didn't go far. I ripped myself from shadow travel even before I left Mount Othrys. My arms shook dangerously. Had I meant it? No, of course I didn't. I hadn't meant to leave.

I couldn't very well go back and say that, though. I couldn't face them again.

Tired, exhausted, and hungry from my fast, my arms and legs shook and my eyelids felt like lead. The image of the dark-haired boy – ha, boy, as if he wasn't like twenty – swam before my eyes in the film of tears. I leaned against the wall to my right to steady myself.

Immediately, cold shot up my arm. Like, insta-numb cold. Angry cold. Like it was alive. It shot up my arm and past my shoulder and seeped into my chest, forcing a cough out of me and stealing my breath.

I gasped and leapt back, drawing my hand in and staring up at it. It wasn't just a wall – it was the Black Wall. I was in the destroyed part of the palace.

I frowned. That hadn't been pleasant, but it was… interesting. And it hadn't killed me.

Slowly I reached out to touch it again and, sure enough, the cold leapt back at me eagerly. But it did not kill me. In fact, after a few minutes of standing there, I got used to it. It felt kind of nice.

I liked this Black Wall, I decided.

Too tired to do anything else, I knelt down beside it, turned around, and leaned against the Stygian iron. The cold made me shiver, numbing my back, but by this point I was too tired to do more than accept and even enjoy it.

I thought dimly of Hunter and Brook. Wondered if they knew I wouldn't really leave, if they were looking for me, if they cared. I wasn't sure what'd happened that night, but I knew I couldn't face them. Not yet.

That was my last thought, because before I knew it, I'd fallen asleep.

_***end***_

Nic: Yay! Tell us what you think! You excited to read more?

Nyx: I want stroganoff.

Nic: Review, review, review! And remember the penname change next week! We are Nic-n'-Nyx, people!

Nyx: There are four boxes of it in the pantry, and a ton of hamburger meat in the fridge….

Nic: See you next week, people!

Nyx: OH MY GOSH! We need milk! We need milk for stroganoff! We might be out of milk! I have to go check! Byeguysseeyounextweek! *sprints out of room*

Nic: *stares after her* ….Stroganoff?

10


	14. Games

DISCLAIMER:

Nyx: I watched Wrath of the Titans last night.

Nic: Oh, did you?

Nyx: Yes, I did. They stole Rick Riordan's idea of killing the Minotaur with its own horn after it'd broken off.

Nic: Maybe they were just making fun of the horrible Lightning Thief movie.

Nyx: Yeah. Who'd want to steal from Rick Riordan…? He owns the PJatO series. Claiming to own it is like watching an Olympian in true form – I don't think anyone can quite handle it.

Nic: You go on believing that.

_***begin***_

"Bree? Bree, say something. This isn't funny."

I awoke to a familiar voice and the absence of the familiar cold that'd haunted my dreamless sleep. My eyes cracked open on a dark sky above – still early in the morning.

Ethan stood – kneeled – beside me. As soon as he saw my eye open, he began to cuss me out. "Would you care to explain what the Styx you're doing out here?! Trying to get yourself killed?!"

"No," I muttered, sitting up. He'd dragged me off the Black Wall. "Who peed in _your _Cheerios?"

It took him a moment to figure out what my phrase, but eventually he seemed to understand. Which just made him angrier. "Who… You did, apparently! What were you doing out here?" He got to his feet and, almost unconsciously, offered me his hand.

I took it and hauled myself to my feet. "Hiding from Brook and Hunter."

He sighed roughly. "I got that. Why the Black Wall? You realize that when I found you, you were half dead?"

I glanced wearily at the Wall again, almost in awe. "I was? It seemed fine to me when I fell asleep. Cold, but nice."

He shook his head. "No. It'd kill you. Especially if you got cut. Very slowly, and ever slower for you I'm guessing, but it would. Stygian iron is even rumored to kill werewolves."

I stared at the Black Wall over my shoulder as he led me away, down a different corridor I hadn't explored yet. After yesterday, I wasn't sure I wanted to.

He turned down another bend and I realized I had been down here before – we were heading to the arsenal. He tossed the door open behind him as he entered, and I slipped in quietly. "What," he asked as he fumbled around a barrel of whetstones, "happened between you three? None of you strike me as the kind to run."

"I've never had reason to before. Not from them," I sighed. "I… I'm not sure exactly what went wrong. Maybe it's this palace. The stress." Ha. As if he knew that I knew, as if 'stress' wasn't such an understatement. "I don't like this place."

"No? I thought you were doing well now," Ethan said, finally picking the right stone. He drew his sword and began to sharpen it. Which struck me as odd, because I'd never seen anyone sharpen a Celestial bronze sword before. I'd always thought that, like my own magic blade, it didn't need sharpening.

I didn't even consider telling him the truth, though. Not a word until I discussed it further with my sisters. We'd at least talk about it formally, I knew, even if shooting poisonous glances at one another the whole time. Despite our fight, the idea of doing something so huge without their consent made my stomach turn over. Perhaps that's why I hadn't run away. "Things… build up."

Ethan didn't seem to be the kind of guy you could lie to, but I've had practice. He bought it easily, frowning at some invisible imperfection on his blade. "Well, learn to deal with it. That's what everybody does, and you're not exactly expected to get any slack." His voice had turned stern.

"Neither is your sword," I muttered. Then, louder, "I'm trying. I just needed to get out for the night."

He sighed exasperatedly and set his sword down, fixing his green gaze on me. "Isn't that what you were doing when you ran off to China? Didn't you almost die _that _time, too? I wouldn't make a habit out of this. The life of a demigod is hard enough as it is."

"Yeah, well, I'll decide what habits I want and don't want," I spat, much like him in the aspect that I wasn't going to subordinate or act inferior, even if it was just advice. But his tone made it sound like an order, and I was in no mood to follow them. "As far as China, my next trip is to Japan, mind you, and for the Black Wall it's one of the most interesting things I've seen in my life. Which, taking recent events into account, is quite impressive."

"Suit yourself," he sighed, pocketing the small whetstone and shrugging, like I was an inferior child who didn't know what she was talking about. I grit my teeth but held my tongue as I followed him, storming, out of the arsenal.

We didn't speak for the rest of our travel back to where the Black Wall stood, where we parted ways. I reminded myself of how he must've known something and had to resist the itch in my hands, watching his exposed throat.

Dawn was not far off when I entered another hallway and left the sky behind. With Ethan gone I didn't hold myself together quite as tightly, though I've lived long enough to know that even then, not many emotions played across my face. Mainly I was steeling myself for the conversation sure to come when I walked in that door.

I didn't hesitate to open it, though. Just walked right in. If I hesitated I'd begin to fret and worry and lose my carefully constructed thoughts.

As soon as the door was shut behind me, Brook ambushed. I didn't see her come. Just felt the impact and the total annihilation of the breath in my lungs. Her momentum caused me to trip over my feet, and if it weren't for her tight grip (and she was pretty dang strong) I would've toppled over.

"Bree!" she cried happily. "I knew you wouldn't leave! I knew it!"

I dimly wondered if Hunter had told her to do this, just to bring out this horribly guilty feeling, but then every thought was drowned in that exact sensation. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Little wide-eyed, smiling Brook. My little – sorry, big – girl. "I'm so sorry," I told her. Not Hunter, just her. "I shouldn't have said that. You know I couldn't leave without you, alright? It's okay. It's okay."

"I know," she said, the thrilled tone in her voice gone. A friendly one now. "Part of me just wanted to make you regret it."

Yep. That was my Brook, alright.

"Rightfully so, too."

And that would be Hunter.

I raised my head to look at her. She stood back a few paces, arms crossed, bright eyes hidden in the shadow of her bangs. "Hunter."

She nodded curtly. "Bree."

Silence. Neither of us could say a word without exploding something dangerous in the air. But her eyes glinted like light pouring through an open door and her hand twitched, just a little, the palm facing outwards. I blinked twice, shaking my head just a little, and gave her a questioning glance.

It was all we needed. It started with that look, turned into a handshake, then her arm stiffened and she pulled me against her, her other arm around my shoulders. I let out a sharp breath. It felt like years since I'd seen them, not hours.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled miserably, knowing that might not fix it.

"It's alright. I said some stupid things, too." She let go and stepped back, leaning down just a tad so that we were eye-level. "Now, while we're both sane, would you like to explain what happened?"

It was rare that we got into fights like that. But when we did, this was always how we solved them.

I shook my head. "There's nothing more to say. You know what happened. I don't want to repeat myself."

That, however, was a first. For one of us to say that we had nothing to correct.

"Not that I shouldn't have yelled," I added quickly. For those of you who have not noticed, my social skills are not the smoothest.

Hunter, knowing me as she did, understood perfectly. She nodded. "Alright. We can ask around to see if we can pick up who and why, okay? I'll talk to Kronos about what you saw. We'll figure out what happened, and we'll put a stop to it. I don't think I told you that last night, but I'm just as ticked off as you are about that." She closed her eyes, and sure enough she saw, much like Brook and I, that dazzling pair of turquoise eyes. The spark of magic from pale fingertips. Her eyes snapped open again. "We'll settle this once and for all. Clear?"

Hunter was deadliest when she spoke in that icily calm voice. Much like Kronos, whom she hadn't called 'Father' but had also neglected to use an official title for. I could feel the rage in her voice. I knew she meant it.

But there was just one problem.

I shook my head. "You can't tell him we know. I'm serious about him being a suspect. Especially since Ethan knew – wouldn't it make sense one of them tell the other? And the blood on his shirt? And being gone all day long?"

And there it was again. Our careful compromise blown apart, signified by the hardening of her gaze. "No. I know what you think, and I know you honestly believe that evidence, but I don't. I know him better than you do. You have to trust me when I say we can trust _him."_

"Guys," Brook warned, sensing the danger.

I grit my teeth. "No. It's too dangerous. Think of what a murderer would do – whoever it is – if they found out we knew? As long as he's a suspect we can't say anything to him."

Her eyes narrowed. "He's not a suspect."

"He is. Everyone's guilty until proven innocent." It was an old phrase between us, one I saw spark a flurry of recognition in her irises.

"Please don't start this again," Brook said in a tone that suggested she wasn't above violence if we didn't comply.

"Even if," Hunter said calmly, "he was of suspicion, we could still mention it to him. Just make it look like we suspect someone else."

"Then we look suspicious, and you're still not listening-"

An accusation was the wrong thing to make. Now her teeth were bared. "Not if I say it to him, smart one. He trusts me, and if anything he knows I trust him, so he'd be inclined to believe it. And I am _listening_ – and I'm telling you, that from an outside, unbiased viewpoint, your suspicion of him makes no sense."

"Unbiased," I snorted.

"As unbiased as a human – demigod – ach, freak, whatever! – can get," she said calmly. "You know the way I analyze things. I'll admit I rush into things, but that's the last feeling I have right now, and I can tell you for sure that I'm being careful enough about judging this. You can trust me, right?"

"Oh, sure," I spat. "I can trust you. I just don't expect any trust in return."

"I trust what you saw, because I know you too well to say otherwise. I know you're panicked and, though you try to hide it, scared out of your mind."

I was silent. She was right – and what was I supposed to say to that?

"We all should be," Brook spoke up softly. "Our friend was murdered, and we could be next."

"I'm not worried about us being next," Hunter sighed. "I'm sorry, but I'm just not. I'm getting to the bottom of this no matter what it takes." She glanced at the walls, as if there was something there to read. "For the meantime, though, we're about to be late to breakfast and the orders to be handed out afterwards, and Kronos undoubtedly _will _kill us if we show up tardy."

I sighed. That, at least, I knew I could trust her on. I'd seen enough myself to believe it.

_***space***_

Kronos was in a large open room with a high roof but open on all walls save the normal black columns. The green fires glinted off the marble in a way that I would've found beautiful if it were not for my dark state of mind.

"You three," he crooned as we stepped forward. "I don't have much for you. Not yet. I want you to keep training. There's not much else I can use you for right now. Once you're ready, though, I promise I'll have something better." He nodded to Ethan, who stood beside him and a stack of many things – books, weapon racks, armor, and boxes of other various supplies I couldn't identify. "When we are done here I want you to take Bree and Brook back to the training courtyard. Your schedule doesn't change, either."

Ethan dipped his head once in a bow as he pulled a rack of swords forward. "Yes, my lord."

Kronos didn't acknowledge that but instead turned to the next person in line. "Ah, Michelle. I want you in charge of… Bree? Would you mind moving out of the way? I'd like to speak to Michelle." That same icy, calm, collected tone.

"If you'll forgive me for insisting, I'd like to train with you and Hunter today," I said, forcing the waver out of my voice. Anger, rather than causing me to lose control, often made it easier for me to conduct myself in just the way I wanted. Not the crazy calm look Hunter had, but as if there was nothing wrong at all. "My lord," I added quickly.

Kronos's golden eyes flashed dangerously. Hunter sucked in a sharp breath. I hadn't run this idea by her yet. Ethan glanced from me to the Lord of Time, the smallest bit of fear leaking into his eye.

"…Very well," Kronos decided. "I've been intending to assess your skills, anyway. Not to mention I have a few things I prefer to teach personally. Nakamura, you'll just have Brook today." He smiled coldly at me. "Now, Bree, if I could speak to Michelle?"

"Sorry. Thank you," I said, dipping my head the way Ethan had, and quickly moved aside to where Brook and Hunter waited.

Brook's eyes were wide. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"You got a death wish?" Hunter hissed, golden eyes blazing.

"You said he's not of suspicion, right?" I said. "So no, I don't have a death wish. And I'd be interested to see learn what he has to teach, anyway. As you said, I don't know him that well. It seems time I changed that."

Beyond that conversation, I found I couldn't meet her eyes. Instead, I felt her furious glare burning a hole in my shirt, screaming one word over and over again so loudly it was a wonder people didn't turn to stare.

_Traitor._

_***space***_

"Pretend I'm from Camp Half-Blood," Kronos said, scythe raised. We were alone in the same empty courtyard. Hunter stood by and watched with careful eyes.

I had never faced someone holding a scythe before, and Ethan hadn't covered defense or attack with that weapon. Just by looking at it I knew my usual strategies against a sword would be totally useless – you did not swing a sword the same way you did a weapon like _that._

"I just killed you," Kronos said in a bored tone.

"He did," Hunter put in.

"I know that! Shush!"

Kronos gave me a knowing look. "Nakamura hasn't taught you the scythe yet, has he?"

"No," I admitted.

"Well, at least he knows how to prioritize. Very well – show me what you _do _know." The scythe in his hands shrunk and morphed, changing colors until it was a silver and gold leaf-shaped, doubled-edged sword.

There we go. This was better. I started with a basic attack, familiar moves and strategies falling into place in my mind. Kronos didn't put up much of a fight at first – there was hardly any strength behind his blows, and he was none too fast.

"You're not going to do any damage like that," Hunter warned from the side.

He took her word for it. The next blow was so strong it stopped my blade short and made me grit my teeth in an effort to keep it from retracing its path.

It was a test of skill not as much as a duel, and I knew he could've won several times. But he didn't end it. He made me come at him again and again, from every angle, for so long I had to use every trick I knew. His scythe came dangerously close to my skin, and I got the feeling he wouldn't regret it if I bled.

At last he went on the attack, forcing me into defense. The change in style was welcome. Opening a new arsenal of opportunities, I fared better than I had just a moment ago, despite how tired I'd already grown.

By the time we were done he hadn't even broken a sweat. He stepped back and studied me carefully. I was breathing hard but not panting – Ethan had drilled into Brook and I both not to run out of air, and to remain on the balls of our feet. Combined, the two things kept us ready for anything that came at us. Almost, anyway.

He nodded slowly. "Alright. Good with a sword so far. Not much compared to the full extent of the art and your potential, but a good start. And in magic?"

"I summon shadows, shadow travel, and have Shadow Form," I told him. "Ethan had me practice aiming them at things. We haven't gone much farther than that, beyond a lot of control exercises." To show him, I held out my hand, letting the shades wrap around it and swirl between my fingers. They were more than shadows – there was something else about them, something I felt I should know, but I couldn't quite pin it down. Something ancient, I decided. As I got to know them better and better, the more obvious this unknown trait became.

Kronos didn't look happy. "He didn't discuss strategies with you?"

"Is it different than sword-fighting strategies?"

"It adds a whole other layer to anything you do. Yes, it has its own strategies. The sooner you learn them the better, because you have to figure out how to tie those two strategies together. There's so much more to magic. It's an art form, much like sword-fighting. You could compare the two to writing novels and writing music. Very different, but the same basic concept and use."

"Really?" I asked, flashing back on the son of Hecate. I managed not to flinch. He had seemed angry with the aggressive use of magic, like that wasn't what it should be used for. Or not taught right away, at least. "We don't use magic for anything but weapons?"

He considered that for a moment. "We use it for making weapons, building things, et cetera." He seemed proud of that last word. "Your powers aren't good for anything but offense, though. Darkness is always compared to hate, and hate only does harm."

"That's written in the Bible," I remembered. "So I'm damned?"

He chuckled. "I did not say that. Just that you're a weapon. A very fine one at that, once we sharpen you up a bit. You have a destiny, and I intend to see you through it."

I stared at the shadows in my hand. The undefined trait felt frustrated now. Pulsing, pushing out at me. That part, at least, certainly didn't feel offensive. Didn't feel like hate. The shadows, I could understand. They were dangerous. But even they weren't evil, just restless. Part of human nature, of every human, good or bad. Were they really just for torment?

I did flinch that time, the image of the son of Hecate flashing before my eyes.

"Father," Hunter said, stepping forward. "Before we go on, I wanted to say something."

He blinked at her. "What is it?" And, somewhat to my surprise, there was genuine concern in his voice. Aside from reinforcing the idea to kill other demigods by labeling my target as one, he hadn't done a single thing that'd cause suspicion.

"Well, actually, it's Bree who wants to say something," Hunter corrected, glancing in my direction.

It wasn't until then that I realized what she was doing.

"No I don't!" I blurted. "It's fine!"

But the damage was done. Kronos turned to me and raised an eyebrow. "You have almost as many questions as she does, don't you? As annoying as they are," – he sent her a glance – "it's all the more frustrating when you don't speak up." He stepped forward, golden eyes glinting with curiosity. "If I were you, I'd raise my voice. Otherwise someone might assume you don't want to be heard. And people who aren't heard can't call for help, should a situation arise."

I fixed a glare on Hunter. Behind his back, she smirked and waved at me, a sarcastic fire in her eyes. Dangit! I should've seen some sort of retaliation coming from her. This was her revenge for me springing this training session on her.

"Well?" Kronos asked. "I'm waiting."

"Um… See, I, uh, had to pee…"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"She went to use the restroom and got lost. She stumbled across something… unpleasant," Hunter said for me. Since our current feud had nothing to do with my lack of social skills, she seemed happy to step in as she normally did. "In the training room where you gave us our weapons."

Before I knew what'd happened – I didn't even see him move – the scythe was under my chin, cold metal pressing against my skin, making it impossible to swallow. His gold eyes glittered hungrily. "_What,"_ he spat, "do you know about that room?"

_***end***_

Nyx: Yay! And we had milk, if anyone's interested! I had stroganoff! *feels proud*

Nic: Yes, you sent me a picture of it. Very nice.

Nyx: Of course I did. It's stroganoff. Anyway, sorry I'm four hours late again. This is my own personal problem – I need to get my sleep schedule back on track. I have said this before, but waking up later than six (seven at the latest) cuts my day too short and drives me nuts. I apologize to those of you who are also bothered by my tardiness.

Nic: Only the people in the eastern time zones will be bothered, I think.

Nyx: Ach, don't say that! I was trying to believe they didn't mind! Anywho…. Thanks to all those who reviewed. A bunch. Especially those who came back and reviewed again for almost every chapter. It feels good to know people are listening.

Nic: Have you seen these graphs? We don't have anyone from Russia yet.

Nyx: Well, I have two more disclaimers and conversations to write, so if you'll excuse me, onto the next chapter…


	15. Ninjas

DISCLAIMER:

Nyx: I'm hungry and can't think of an amazingly funny disclaimer right now, and humor is not my strength to begin with, so I'm going to have to settle for this;

Nico: Ever wonder what the Fates are like? I mean, their personalities. Like, are they murderers, or nice old grannies who bake cookies?

Minos: I strongly doubt the latter, master.

Nico: Quit calling me that.

Minos: On the other hand, that would be quite funny. Of what I know of them, though, they do not even regret that cursed pair of scissors.

Nico: Things might be different if someone else were in charge. *looks at Labyrinth floor, fumbles with small statue*

Minos: Don't ponder yourself with the impossible. I promised you that we'd save her, but that is not the way. The Fates are not likely to be overthrown.

Nico: *not listening* What if it were, say, two weird girls that just wrote everything down, and it happened? That would suck. I'd be, like, wearing pink or something, don't you think?

Minos: I don't think that's very likely, either, master. Two girls, owning us? Bah! The craziest idea I've ever heard. They do not own us. Not to insult you, master! Just the thought. You are tired, are you not?

Nico: Yeah…

_***begin***_

I do my best work when under pressure. At least, as much as I could handle. Which was more than you could say for the average person. "That the son of Hecate was tortured and killed there." The words fell off my tongue smoothly, without my usual stutter. Something inside felt cold – as cold as his eyes had been, blank and sightless. Dead.

Kronos's eyes narrowed. "How, exactly, do you know all that? That is confidential until we figure out who did it."

Hunter shot me a look. I ignored her and answered, "I stumbled across it while I was lost, remember?"

"And what do you know? About the boy?"

"Hardly anything. He loved working with magic. Had a passion for it. He taught me most of what I know." The scythe's pressure lessened, and just as fast as it'd appeared, vanished entirely. He had sheathed it, back in sword form, in the scabbard hanging from his waist.

He gave me a look that held – disappointment? "Is that all?"

"Yes."

He sighed and shook his head. "Nakamura reported early yesterday morning that the boy was seen in that area. He was late to dinner, and naturally I went to scold him for slacking off, and that's where I searched first. And, I'm guessing, you know what I found. As far as we know, there was no reason for anyone to kill him. There must have been something he did to set someone off, yet nobody seems to know what it is." He gave me a cold smile. "I thought you of all people might know something."

Hunter's gaze met mine again, but I wasn't about to admit anything. Not that I was wrong, despite what he'd said. "Who do you think it was, then?"

"Either a demigod or an empousi. The she-devils find it very insulting to have your blood wasted and are quite good with weapons. It'd take a serious offense to spark that reaction out of them, killing without drinking even if it wasn't their main priority, so it's more likely a demigod. And we don't take kindly to those who kill their fellow comrades. We have too few demigods to begin with."

"So you're investigating?" Hunter asked, head cocked to one side.

"Of course. Interviewing demigods. Whoever did it, for whatever reason, does have a chance of doing it again." He smiled, as if there was a second meaning to those words that we didn't understand.

She glanced at me. "I'm guessing you don't want us to tell anyone?"

"Don't ask me questions you can answer yourself," Kronos snapped. "I've told you that before. You'd do best to learn it."

"Sorry. Bree was just upset about it last night, that's all. She was concerned for the safety of Brook and I."

Now he turned back to me, curiosity like a wildfire in his irises. "Is that so? You were scared? Come now, there's no shame in admitting it. Tell me. I'm not exactly against you in this."

Ha. Funny. "Yes, my lord. I… It's hard to look at Brook and not be."

"I see," he said. "But you of all people have no reason to be scared. And you should know that. I'll speak with Nakamura about boosting your training schedule. You seem to underestimate yourself." His gaze turned to Hunter. "I will change that, though. When I'm done with you, you'll be fearless leaders whom will struggle to find a challenge in this world." His voice level dropped, pulled by gravity, something deep resonating from his words. "I will accept nothing else from either of you. Understood?"

"Yes, my lord," I said, bowing my head. Hunter said the same, but once again, she called him 'Father.'

"Now," Kronos said. "Hunter, would you care to help me demonstrate what you have learned so far?"

_***space***_

"Again!"

I was panting but didn't stop, lunging at him again, my black sword spinning faster than it ever had before. I finished the sequence and backed out quickly.

"Again!" he barked, before I'd even finished my one-step retreat.

So again I lunged at him, unleashing a flurry of movements and strikes from my sword. The newer moves he'd taught me today, though harder when slow, fit well into these sequences. Though they were difficult when I was exhausted, as I was now. And it was hardly past lunch time.

"Faster! And be more creative!" he scowled, taking a step back and making me work harder to approach.

This time when I lunged he fought back, not just parrying my blows but striking at me. His sword was fast and unrestrained. I knew by now that he would easily cut me if I didn't parry or dodge, and I had to do it fast.

"Come on! You're slow!" he snapped, this time cutting open my shirt, narrowly missing the skin. A blow that could've easily killed me.

Taking his point, I forced yet more out of my burning muscles. I was focused entirely on the fight. On each move with the sword, each concentrated coordination of my feet and stance. I had no idea if they came out right – just forced the motions to my limbs and kept going without checking to see if they worked the way they were supposed to. His sword, too, was the focus of my attention. As well as the way he tensed, which muscles and where, my only indication of how, when, and where he would strike next.

"Keep moving," he said cautiously, and that's when I realized that his blows weren't landing nearly as often now. I was forcing him to keep his guard up.

I was desperate now. I'd do anything he asked, just to make this end. To earn a rest and a drink of water. To collapse on the marble and pant until the world wasn't spinning anymore. Right then, I didn't care who he was. My suspicions were forgotten. I'd do what he asked if it meant a break.

Time had abandoned me. It was just two swords and two bodies, and the solid ground beneath us. A small black sword so perfectly balanced it felt like an extension of my arm, a body so tired I wasn't sure it was moving when I told it to.

Nor was I really conscious of every move. It just happened so fast.

"Magic!" came his next order. It was longer after the orders, even I could tell, and made no sense to me whatsoever.

"What?" I gasped, narrowly dodging his blade and my own unconsciously swinging around to strike at him again.

"Magic, girl! Don't ask stupid questions!" His sword came at me again, ruthless.

I had no idea what he meant, but I had no choice. I called on the shadows.

Rather than forming around my hand, I felt them coil around my blade. Through them I could feel it – and gasped. It was humming, alive, and menacing. A sword. But the magic – that magic – was the same as the unnamable source within the shadows.

The magic was the same. But the Stygian iron was also infused with shadows, and it'd been made to kill. I dimly recalled that the Styx was also called the River of Hate. The shadows, almost with a mind of their own, sliced out from the blade in an arch, echoing its movement outwards. Kronos flinched when it hit and sailed right past him, disintegrating into the air, but didn't hesitate to lash at me again.

I struck again. And again. Parry, thrust, dodge, dance, duck, swing, evade, counterstrike, slash, twirl, thrust…. But now the shadows were pulling at me. I knew they were exhausting me further, but much like adrenaline, that wasn't an immediate consequence. If anything, they seemed to wake me up.

I wasn't sure when I broke into Shadow Form. I think I stumbled into it accidentally. But suddenly the world was dark and it was cold and it felt like the Black Wall had – exhilarating. I moved faster than he did, a trapped golden flame in front of me. My sword pulsed with shadows and that same strange magic. Here it looked like a dark green. I saw myself strike at him and succeed once, twice, three times before he retaliated.

To this day I don't know if he somehow pulled me back into the real world or if I became too tired or if I came out on my own accord, once he'd sped himself up via time warp and my new trick did no good. The moment my feet were on solid ground again, though, I was met by an unstoppable force.

It was so fast I could hardly see it. It was strong as a swinging wrecking ball. There was nothing I could do as, rather suddenly, my sword was wrenched from my hands and the edge of a blade was shoved under my chin, forcing me to stumble backwards just a bit.

I met his golden eyes. He was sweating now, his breathing heavy. I was worse. We stayed like that for a few seconds. The only thing that kept me on my feet was his gaze, pinning me sternly to the spot.

Then his scythe disappeared and he turned away. His eyes vanished. I groaned and, knees like water, collapsed onto the floor. It felt nice and cool and, unlike my shaking self, very solid. I sucked in as deep a breath as I could. It tasted sweet – I dimly wondered how long I'd gone without sufficient oxygen.

There were a few more seconds before he spoke. "Hunter? What do you think?"

I heard her voice but didn't see her face. "It was good, I guess. She learns fast. Soon she'll be able to keep that speed constantly, and magic is supposed to become easier each time, right?"

There was an angry scowl in his voice when he spoke next, like an ugly scar. "Never ask me if you're right, child. Never say, _'I guess.'_ Lack of self confidence will earn you no respect and get you killed in a heartbeat. No child – or apprentice – of mine is going to accept that bitter fate."

"Yes, Father. I'm sorry."

I lay gulping at the air for just a moment more, head pounding, when his shadow loomed over me. "As for you," he said, "lying there like a landed fish earns no respect, either. You will not represent me like this. Get up."

I didn't want to. Not by a long shot. But more threatening was what he might do. Start up a high-speed duel again? Hack at me with an unbound blade, forcing me to fight back if I wanted to remain alive? No, that'd be worse than standing, so I stood up and hoped he couldn't see me shaking. If he asked me to stop that, too, I was screwed.

Instead he just studied me carefully. "I'll talk to Nakamura about his training methods. I want him pushing both of you harder."

As he turned away I thought back to Ethan. His training hadn't been bad, Hadn't been easy. He'd worked us until, at the time, I thought I could hardly stand. Now, standing where I was, I could feel the difference. It was still a hard workout he'd given us, but it was not this. Not by a long shot. The fatigue after his training bouts were nothing compared to the utter exhaustion I felt now.

"Hunter?" Kronos asked calmly. "Come at me."

And they started fighting, the same way he'd just drilled me.

I watched with envy. She was – after doing this as a daily exercise in both morning and afternoon between lessons on magic, strategy, history, culture, and new moves and styles – much better than me. More graceful, too, I'm sure. She moved with perfection. There was no questioning her coordination like I had mine. This, though so much more brutal than her battle with Ethan, she still managed to shape into a dance-like perfection. On her part, anyway. Kronos didn't quite look to be dancing like her, but he was perfectly in control of each and every move.

This was what he wanted Ethan to do with us. In the mornings, and before we left for dinner. I dimly wondered what he'd do for Brook. Work with her daggers, maybe?

I watched, wishing I had some water, as Hunter's graceful moves fell into place. She incorporated magic without being asked, too – little golden flashes that sped up a blow or slowed down one of his. It seemed as much a reflex to her as the most basic moves with my sword did to me. She was fast, deadly, and beautiful. Like a freaking ninja.

But eventually he got the best of her, too. She was sweating and panting, shaking just a little after their own lengthy duel, but seemed nowhere near the state I was in.

Kronos quickly slung his scythe over his back and turned away. "You two are dismissed for today. Wash up for dinner." Apparently, were weren't to represent him as sweaty tired girls, either. "Oh, and Hunter – I intend to make it publicly known that I'm your father soon."

"Why?" she asked, curious but polite.

"Because I want Olympus to be scared of you. It will make you a target and we may get spies, but all the better – it's much easier to kill a demigod when they're stranded here alone than later, among their friends in the heat of a battle. It allows us to hunt them easier. That, and the fact that your name and parentage will overshadow Bree's. Though I want her identity known to the army, I have special plans for her, and I wish for that to be a surprise." He smirked, eyeing me eagerly, like he couldn't wait until I saw the awesomeness he had planned for me. "When you're ready, of course."

"I'm guessing I'm not now?" I mumbled, stumbling.

He laughed slightly, as if he found that funny. Amusement glittered in his golden eyes as he watched me sway. "No, not yet. Now go on, you two – you don't want to be late if we still have a murderer lurking around, now do you?"

_***space***_

"Not that I care much of what you think of me," Ethan said coldly, glaring at me from across the dinner table, "but what exactly did I do wrong? It's not often people favor Kronos over…. Over anyone else here."

"I favor you, don't worry," I muttered, having to force my eyes to stay open. Hunter nudged me and chuckled. I gave her a weary smile. The practice session and bold moves played during it had made us even for the time being. Not to mention gave us something to joke about. The word "ninja" was going to be used quite often from now on, I was sure.

Brook looked amused. She could tell everything that'd gone on in just one glance. "So I'm guessing you'll be with us again tomorrow?"

"I'll be with Ethan. Kronos wants you tomorrow. He'll take us, one at a time, once each week to train with him and Hunter."

She looked at her dinner. "Oh."

"He'll go easy on you the first day," Hunter said. "He'll let you use your daggers and fight you with a pair of his own. Things you're used to, you know, before moving on to new topics that you have to spend all night studying."

"That was _going easy?"_ I asked, eyes widening a little.

"Yes. Soon he's going to expect you to know weapons and their corresponding strategies, weaknesses, and strengths by heart. As well as how to fight both with and against them. Though your sword doesn't turn into anything on its own, he's going to force you into learning it all."

"Cram much, doesn't he?" Brook murmured. Cramming lots of information was usually fun for her, and even now, I heard eagerness in her soft tone.

"Ugh," I said, my head almost dropping onto my plate. "Cramming. Yes, cramming."

"He said he wants you to pick up the speed, too," Hunter reminded Ethan. "More duels, and pushing them harder. A little closer to his own methods."

Ethan, not looking too happy about having to rewrite his training program, scowled at his chili. "Alright. If that's what he wants."

"You don't have much of a choice, do you?" Hunter smirked.

He threw his hands in the air and gave her an exasperated look. "Well, do you?"

"No, not really. Though I'll admit that as long as I have the choice between bread rolls and cornbread, I'm happy. Pass me that basket, would you?"

_***end***_

Nyx: Yay!

Nic: Do you start every conversation like that?

Nyx: With some sort of exclamation, but they usually involve inside jokes. Makes life more exciting. As far as the chapter, I have to say I like the last line. Dinner roles. Ha, we don't show our country on the profile, but those who have watched Hetalia I'm pretty sure can guess.

Nic: RUSSIA!

Nyx: Where?! Russia! Do you think Belarus got him?

Nic: NEVER!

*No, we don't own Hetalia, either. And for those who don't know what it is, it is an anime show that represents countries (including culture, history, and stereotypes) as people and put them through historic events, mainly WWII. For those of you who do love Hetalia, the next poll will be favorite country. However the current poll has been up for weeks and not a single person has voted, so you'll have to wait for people to vote and that one to come down finally.*


	16. Antisocial

DISCLAIMER:

We own the characters Bree, Hunter, Brook, Brianna, the dark-haired son of Hecate, and Herald Larkingson. The rest, as well as the PJatO series, belongs to Rick Riordan. Seriously, we'd even lie and say the movie for LT was remotely good before trying to steal his stuff.

_***begin***_

That night I passed out as soon as I hit my cot, still seeing that gold and silver sword flashing back and forth before my eyes. I heard Kronos's words on the Hecate kid's murder echo in my mind. Alarms were going off somewhere in the back of my thoughts, something that didn't add up, but I was too tired to speculate. I went to sleep.

That morning, rather than seeing that blade, I felt it. The bruises ached and despite the deep rest I felt tired. The pounding in my head refused to let up. I groaned and hid from the light behind my thin pillow.

Hunter, however, dragged me out of bead by threatening to beat me with her empty ice bucket. So I got up.

On our way to breakfast, we were briefing Brook on what not to do in front of Kronos.

"Just do what he says and you'll be fine," Hunter was saying. "If you resist, he'll push you harder, but he's never gone past our limits. Oh, and don't ask stupid questions. That ticks him off."

"Use his title. Show respect," I advised, blinking around at the walls, still half-asleep. But as we walked my head slowly began to clear.

The feeling I'd had last night about something not quite right increased as we sat down for breakfast. Ethan put up with some of Hunter's small talk, and Brook continued to wonder about what Kronos had in store for her. My gaze gravitated to the Titan himself – every time I looked away, I suddenly found myself staring again. The nagging thought, just out of reach, taunted me happily each time.

A nudge came on my elbow. I jumped, jerking my gaze from Kronos. "Hm? What?"

Next to me, instead of our dark-haired friend, now sat a short boy Hunter's age with dark skin and a mischievous smile. He nodded to the sword I held protectively against my side. "Nice blade you got there."

"Hm," I said, still in the process of waking up.

"How much do you want for it?"

Now I gave him a stern look. I knew where this was going. "It's not for sale," I told him calmly.

He spread his hands. "Hey, as far as I'm concerned, _everything's _for sale. Or, at least, subject to barter. I'm Herald, son of Hermes. I'm sure I can hook you up with something you'll gladly take for that short, useless little thing."

_That short, useless little thing you plan on selling for its real price to some dark costumer, not to mention use to cheat me out on profit of my own._ "I said it's not for sale."

"Nor barter?"

"Nor barter."

"Well, now," he said, and unzipped his jacket. "Don't judge a book by its cover. Let me show you the table of contents, sweetheart."

"Call me that and this short, useless little thing will be wedged in your throat."

"My apologies, sweetheart. Now, looky here. That's centaur blood there." He held up a small vial with red liquid in it, using his hand to shield it from wandering eyes. "Dangerous stuff. I think a girl like you would enjoy it."

"Give me a sample," I growled, "and be my test subject."

"No, don't want that? Alright. Check this out – this is a great deal. A magic potion. If you can guess what it is I'll throw in an extra vial."

"I'm not interested. Leave me alone."

His hand clamped not-so-gently on my arm. Beside me I felt Hunter stiffen. His eyes bored into mine with sharp intellect, and I gave him my best evil eye. "Oh, you're interested," he said. "You just want a fair price, is all. A smart lady deserves that fair price."

Hunter began to growl.

He took no notice but instead motioned to my sword again. "Look, I'll be honest with you. That metal has been legend around here since the Black Wall appeared. Who knows how much that could go for in this market?" He chuckled, motioning around, indicating that this market didn't extend beyond Mount Othrys's walls. "I want it bad, and I want to make a profit."

"You annoying little bas-"

"I can give you a fair price," he said, eyes turning dark. "Name it, and I'll get it for you. I'll pay back every cent. Think about that – anything, including a new and better sword, for that pretty little plaything right there."

"Fine. My price is that pretty little plaything. Now bug off."

"When I say anything," he said, voice lowering drastically as his eyebrows raised, "I mean _anything." _

"She said," Hunter snapped, "to bug off."

"Yes, the poor little deaf thing didn't hear me when I said _anything,"_ Herald crooned.

Hunter opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, a cold and dangerous sound came from across the table. Ethan. "Drop it, Larkingson."

Herald Larkingson took his hand off me, turning to glare at Ethan through narrowed eyes. "My apologies, Nakamura. I didn't realize you gave a crap. Nor that you officially surpassed anyone here as far as rankings go, or that I have to take my orders from you."

"You'll listen to me because if she doesn't make good on her threat to slit your throat, I will," Ethan whispered in a voice like ice. "Leave them alone."

Herald, casting one last loathsome glance at Ethan, finally turned away, zipping up his jacket as he did so.

Hunter sighed and rolled her eyes. "Geez. I thought he'd try to sell you his liver."

"He was about ready to sell a different part of him," Brook muttered, disgusted. She shoved her plate away. "Ich. That's one way to ruin an appetite."

Cheeks flushed and furious at her suggestion, my fingers clenched on the sword's handle, gaze landing on Kronos once again.

It wasn't until after we'd left, Hunter and Brook gone and me following Ethan and the smaller crowd back to the training courtyard, when I realized what'd been bugging me.

Kronos claimed to have found the body after dinner. Yet its blood was on his sleeve while we were still eating our evening meal.

_***space***_

Four days later, Ethan was trying to hack the strange girl up alive, while off to the side Brook practiced her daggers on a dummy.

Bree came at him again, fast as a shadow. Without magic, even, she was faster than he was. Not in the sense of reflexes but in overall movement. However, he knew more moves, and much more experience as far as strategy goes.

He was beginning to learn the best way to beat her. Since her sword was shorter, it was harder for her to fight from a distance. But wide arcs with Ethan's own sword left her with the opportunity to get closer. And in close quarters, she had an amazing advantage. His sword was too long, almost bulky, to do much more than parry. The short black blade, however, was idea for fighting in close-quarters. She had complete control of it, and it'd fit just about anywhere she wanted it to.

It frustrated him.

However, he was getting better at holding her at a farther range. She hadn't legitimately beat him yet, hadn't bested a fight in which he incorporated all his skill, and seeing as he was learning as much as she was he was content to know she wasn't going to catch up too soon.

The dark shape slid past him again, striking to drive his sword away. It almost worked. He grunted and, leaning back as fast as he could, swung at her.

But she was too fast. He'd let her past his guard. His sword was wrenched from his hand this time and the cold tip of her midnight blade could be felt hovering at his throat.

"You're getting better," he said, knowing he ought to start with encouragement first, no matter how badly her defense needed coaching.

"Kronos is faster than you," was all she said, refusing to smile. She hadn't since the day Brook spent with Kronos – Ethan had seen Bree whisper something to Hunter and touch her own sleeve lightly, then glance at the Lord of Time. Hunter had replied sharply. Since then he hadn't seen them speak a word to each other. He didn't like this – for some reason, Bree's battle with Hunter just _had _to involve him as well. Why should he have to deal with thorns he didn't pick?

Ethan sighed heavily. "I'm sure he is. Brook? Get over here."

There was no waiting for the day to be over anymore. No more desperate chases from monsters. Just monotony. And though it wouldn't end with the daylight, it had to end soon, and wished it'd hurry up.

Ethan pointed at Bree. "You two go at each other. Don't die. I'll be back in a second."

"Where're you going?" Brook asked, eyeing her daggers wearily as if they might bite her.

"More poisons," he answered. He liked watching Brook work her magic – it was interesting, even fascinating. And while it was totally mind-blowing to watch Bree destroy stuff, it was also unsettling, because it felt so unstable he was scared of being the next target.

He was on his way to the chemicals room, thinking about which poison to grab – the usual, or something a little deadlier to test her skills? Was it worth the risk? – when he heard something.

"Did I ask you whack me with a stick, or act like you've got a brain and_ hit me with a scythe? _Answer me, girl!"

"Like I had a brain," came a gritted answer.

"I thought so! Now try it again!"

As Ethan passed the courtyard where Hunter and her father trained, he saw the source for their argument. Hunter had sprained her ankle two days earlier and, though nectar had healed the majority of it, still had a small limp. He saw her aim a kick and follow through with a spin and a deadly cut with the scythe, but she faltered, and the blow hit low.

Then the courtyard was out of his field of view once more.

He still heard Kronos shouting, though. "What is wrong with you, child? Have I done something wrong? No. Have I neglected your needs? No. Have I asked the impossible? No. I have done my part – why is it so hard to do yours?!"

He sounded angry. And when Kronos was angry, you didn't protest. Like Ethan did, you shuddered, and began to walk faster down the hall and away from his blistering tone.

_***space***_

I was doodling on a piece of paper in our dorm, getting in just a little fun while the others changed. My mind, however, was on the last conversation I'd had with the son of Hecate.

_Runes can create, provide energy for, channel, or automatically set off magic, _he'd said, focused entirely on his art and sketching some obviously familiar glyphs. _There are many ways they can be used. Some, even, to restrain magic. We don't use those often, though, especially with greenhorns. Most people usually should master control on their own._

So many possibilities. My own magic abilities were limited, I knew, but glyphs weren't. I didn't think I could use glyphs, much less the amount written and glowing all over his shirt, but I still found them fascinating. Something to think about as I practiced my control, as he'd told me to do.

"What do you think?" I asked Brook, showing her my drawing.

She frowned. "What is it?"

"It's a design for a glyph. Like it?"

She nodded. "It looks neat, I guess. Though I don't remember seeing it on his shirt. If you're trying to design something new, I don't think you can just write and create glyphs like that."

"I know. It's just for fun," I said, moving my pencil across the paper again. She sighed.

Hunter came in from the bathroom, now dressed in fresh pajamas. She stalked past my cot coldly and marched to hers without a word. We hadn't been on speaking terms since I'd admitted to still suspecting Kronos. Even if her persistence was stupid, because now we had direct evidence he was hiding something.

"I wonder what it could do," I said, studying it closely and thinking of different spells. The symbol looked captivating to me. But as I couldn't find a spell that the glyph represented perfectly, I put the paper away carefully in my box of belongings and settled down in my cot for sleep. Tomorrow, though Friday, meant another day of long hard work.

"Hey, did that Brianna kid ask either of you for nectar today?" Hunter asked. Brook said no, and I shook my head. "Good. People are beginning to get used to us strangers – they're no longer afraid to approach us. And they want to do so before we know just how things are run."

"They're a tad too late for that," Brook said, "and most of them don't mean any harm. Leave it be, and if someone ever really does get into trouble, maybe we can find something that'll help."

"Hm," Hunter grunted. "Oh, and he said that he wants to work with magic on Saturday with you, Bree. And Brook on Sunday."

"'Kay. Thanks," Brook said.

"You're welcome."

I buried my head under my pillow, sighing roughly. I'd already known that. And honestly, at this point in time I wasn't all that happy to hear her voice.

"Bree, is there something you'd like to say?"

She was taunting me, no matter how genuine her tone sounded. I knew it, because she knew my answer before she'd asked. "Nothing that you'd like to hear."

An angry sigh came from her, then all fell silent. The only thing I could see in the dark was the glint of light off Brook's eyes, flitting back and forth between us, a fear glowing in them that I found rather disturbing.

_***space***_

"What do you know about glyphs?" I asked.

Kronos glanced at me. We were training, yes, but he was currently just watching how tightly I could hold my sphere, so it left us open to talk. "Excuse me?"

"Glyphs. Runes. I was told they do magic stuff." Hunter chuckled at my made-up term. I shot her a glare.

Her father considered. "Well, I know you don't have to worry about them. It takes a lot of magic capacity to use them, and so far the only capable of that capacity would be Hecate and her children herself. I'm sure I could if I tried, but runes are not where my powers lie. Nor yours, even if you were strong enough. You might be, due to your blood, but as magic could very well kill you also I wouldn't push your luck."

"Yes, my lord," I said, reshaping my shadows into a cube.

Kronos waved the magic away. "Very well. Now, since today is all about basics and control, we'll move to another subject of magic rather than working on your shadows just yet. Have you tried any other spells?"

"Um… no. Are they called spells when you don't speak? I've never spoken in order to call my shadows."

"Spell is slang for 'incantation,' which would require words, but technically I guess no, a spell would not be what foolish humans try to cast from a wand. Now, see this pebble I'm holding? Tell me what it's made of."

I frowned at the dark rock. "Um… Obsidian?"

He gave me an incredulous look. "Obsidian?"

"Yes. Obsidian."

He glanced around. "…It's black marble."

"You know, the kind of stone everywhere around you," Hunter added, shoulders shaking and snorting in an effort to hold back laughs.

Kronos sighed and tossed the rock aside. "Well, your mineral abilities are nonexistent. I'm not about to play with the dead right now, either. Let's try this. Close your eyes."

I did, and an instant later, I felt the smallest pressure on the tip of my still-drawn sword.

"Now," Kronos said, "can you tell what is on your blade? If you listen, the sword might tell you."

Well, I listened and listened, but I don't think the sword was in the mood to respond.

Hunter sighed. "I don't think she can tell. Not to mention it's a sword – it's hard to balance the weight-"

"That had nothing to do with her sensing the balance of weight," Kronos snapped. "Stand down, child."

Hunter shrugged. "All I was suggesting was that she might do better with another type of weapon."

"Well, it's not about the weapon, it's about the material and her senses though it," her father countered coolly. "Not to mention, her blade lacks the ability to change into numerous forms…"

For a moment, the sounds tuned out of the room. Something in the distance rang happily in my ears. Not in an oppressing way – kind of energetic, actually. But I couldn't pin down what it was.

"Bree? Did you hear what I said?"

I blinked and looked up at Kronos. "Oh! So sorry, my lord. I was thinking."

"You will listen to me when I speak, girl, and you will listen the first time," Blondie growled. "Care to tell me what I said?"

"Um… That it's your birthday?'

"No!" he snapped. "I said, 'Let's make another Black Wall.'"

_***space***_

That night, I drew more runes.

I felt, I think, that I owed that son of Hecate something. This was how I paid it – by showing I listened to, and more importantly, remembered him. It seemed I had more talent with runes (the absolute none) than with Black Walls – I hadn't been able to summon a single one. Not even a small bit.

Hunter was humming to herself and morphing her scythe into different things. On her mental command, the metal bent and shrunk and morphed until it was something she favored. Many times it changed color, but I don't think it actually changed what it was made of.

Brook was practicing a new magic trick that she'd worked on all week in hopes of impressing Kronos. I think, though she'd never admit it, that she felt as if she were lagging behind. And lagging behind is not something Brook did often. I could see, and so could Hunter – it frustrated her and undermined her usual bold self-confidence.

As I watched, with hardly a whisper, she set the arrow in her bow spinning faster than a drill. But she didn't dare draw. With another word, the arrow fell still. She smiled happily to herself.

Well, maybe she wouldn't lag for that long.

She came over to me, glancing over my shoulder at the paper. "Neat," she said. "But you might want to try a new design."

"What?" I asked, confused. I frowned at the paper. It had plenty of new shapes.

"It's the same rune as last night. You just mirrored and rotated it in a bunch of different ways." She demonstrated by turning the paper and holding it up to the light. "See?"

"Weird," I said, standing up and taking the paper from her gently, as if it might explode.

Hunter looked interested now, too. "I saw it, but I thought you were doing it on purpose. I was wondering why you'd bother to do art…" Her sentence dived into a chuckle.

"Has Blondie ever bothered to teach you runes?" I asked, still staring at the paper in awe.

"No. Not beyond what you asked him. They're a Hecate thing, it sounds like. Or for those with really, really strong magic."

"What if-"

Before the words were out, the door was slammed open. We all jumped, weapons ready, expecting something horrible to come flying at us. My heart raced. In the threshold stood Brianna, dressed in armor, sword drawn. She had one of those faces that made you jealous even when – as she was now – terrified.

"The southern flanks being attacked!" she yelled, and despite her expression it sounded very much like an order. "Lord Kronos needs us down there. Now."

_***end***_

Nyx: YES! CLIFFY!

Nic: At last!

Nyx: Thank you all for following, reviewing, and putting up with our pen name change! Next week we have action, and just to make sure you all come back to read... There will be Kronos trying to use a cell phone.

Nic: Hey, somebody had to be the comic relief!

Nyx: If you find anything about this story particularly interesting, funny, or disappointing, tell us! Review! I am _asking _you to talk to me, people.

Nic: Trust me when I say she doesn't do that often.

Nyx: Thanks once more for reading! Now, if you'll excuse us until next week, I must go buy sunflowers without being seen by a certain, eccentric stalker-like coun… er, person!

Nic: *talking to someone off to the side* Yes, we'll get them! Shush! She'll find you!

Nyx: Let's go!

*Nyx and Nic leave room*

Mysterious Person in Panda Suit: *grabs keyboard* Kolkolkol….

^J^

10


	17. The First Shot

DISCLAIMER: We own Hunter, Bree, Brook, and Brianna. Rick Riordan owns everything and one else, including the PJatO series and many characters.

_***begin***_

Our next course of action might not have been the smartest.

Only later did I reflect on that day and wonder if a demigod, who'd never charged into battle before, would've leapt to their feet and drawn a weapon, then run straight for danger. No doubt several demigods would, but ones who'd never seen battle? Like we were supposed to be? We were lucky Brianna didn't piece it together. We could've blown our secret about the Labyrinth.

The hallway seemed to burn away beneath my feet. The sword, now a comforting weight, moved easily with me as we ran. Hunter on my right, Brook on my left. The young girl's bow was out and an arrow notched but not drawn. The walls shot by in quick blurs, sliding away, moving faster and faster –

And that's when I recognized the golden glow in Hunter's eyes, realized we'd left Brianna far behind. Hunter was warping time.

Eventually, though, she stopped. We fell back into a normal pace. This part of the palace was familiar – this was near our private clearing, and not far from where Hecate's portals were set up. Sounds echoed through the hallways now, along with random noises and clacks of armor and the usual sounds of chaos.

As we wound our way through the corridors, we ran into Ethan, who was dressed in pajamas underneath his sloppily thrown-on armor. Yet he took wide, easy, confident strides on his long legs and fell in with us. Ahead of us, really.

We followed without a word of question, letting him lead.

Where he took us, I had never been before, though I'd known it was there. The massive supply room. One of them, anyway, as we knew better than to keep all our eggs in one basket. In this airplane hangar-sized room, I knew there were many nests. This was where the empousi (the vampiries) liked to bunk.

Or, used to, anyway. Ethan wove his way through the crowd easily, his tall wiry frame standing out, and we followed quickly. People and monsters had gathered at the room's entrance (or where it'd once stood) and mumbled, growling to one another. Obviously, whoever had attacked was already gone.

As we went, I caught clips of their words. "…Never saw who, or how they got in…"

"How could they target us again so fast? The Battle of the Labyrinth was supposed to be a devastating blow on them…"

"…Smash open their skull. Wonder how their brains will taste?"

I flinched at the last one, noting sourly that all my favorite zombie movies were forever ruined, and finally reached the front of the crowd. There stood Kronos, next to the snake-woman Michelle. Ethan, who knew his place by now, moved to his side. I hesitated, holding Brook back, but Hunter slipped past us and followed.

"…Any identification?" Kronos was asking Michelle.

"No, my lord," she hissed, slit pupils dancing around nervously. "Mosssst who were inssside – which were not much, lord Kronosss – are dead."

"And the rest?" Kronos growled, golden eyes sparking with annoyance. _Why,_ he seemed to think, _am I stuck working with idiots?_

"Nobody hasss ssaid anything, my lord," Michelle said smoothly. "Nobody ssaw but a ssshadow."

"Then what did this shadow look like?" Kronos snapped. "Don't play hard to get with me!"

Nobody seemed willing to point out how wrong that sounded – Hunter snickered and didn't speak up for a different reason than most, I'm sure – and Michelle shrugged. "Asssk your ssshadow child." Her voice had turned cold. "My lord, if anyone knowsss sssomething, it isss her."

They both turned to look at me, eyes sharp and bright like four freshly unsheathed knives.

Then Kronos turned back to her. "Bree saw nothing, Michelle. She wouldn't know anything. I suggest you get me someone who does."

His tone was calm, as if they were discussing the weather. But Michelle scrambled backwards, nodding and hissing, "Yess, of courssse, my lord! Of courssse!" And she disappeared into the crowd.

Kronos looked over his shoulder and, eyes gleaming, smiled at me.

I shuddered and turned my gaze from them to the destroyed storeroom. The wide chamber was covered in ashes, and the front wall torn down almost entirely. Golden dust was mixed in with the black soot.

Brook tugged on my hand and made a sad noise, seeing this as well. "All those people," she whispered.

Oh, right. All those people who'd been turned into monsters. They were now in Tartarus.

I squeezed her hand gently. "There's nothing we can do. You know that."

She nodded and leaned into me, eyeing the crowd warily.

I decided to take the risk of striking up a conversation. "Lord Kronos?"

He turned to look at me. "Yes?"

"May Brook and I be dismissed, since we're not needed?"

He frowned slightly. "I was about to dismiss nearly everyone, as a matter of fact, save a select few. I'll announce that in a moment, and she is free to leave, but I wish for you, Hunter, and Nakamura to stay here."

"My lord?" Ethan asked, eye widening just a little. "Is there something you have in mind?"

"Would I keep you here if there wasn't?"

"Well…. No, my lord." Ethan made the wise decision to stare at his feet and shut up then.

Blondie's eyes narrowed. Then he turned back to the crowd, awaiting Michelle's return.

_***space***_

I watched, leaning against the marble wall, as the last of Kronos's remaining party left. It consisted of Michelle and her witness. Once they were gone, it was just him, me, Hunter, and Ethan.

He beckoned us over, not really making eye contact, but instead focused on the burned-out room. "The witness knew nothing more specific than just a flicker of movement over there." He pointed to the far wall. Since it was this one that'd been blown up, that indicated a thrown bomb. "Judging from our list of suspects, and the fact that there is no escape over there, can you tell me who did this?"

"Um…" Hunter said, thinking.

Ethan, who knew more than her as far as the suspects' abilities and allegiances, paled. "Oh."

"Slow down! You're leaving me behind!" she snapped irritably.

Kronos sighed. "Bree?"

"…Sorry, but are you asking my opinion?" I asked nervously, a little shocked.

"No. I'm trying to teach you something. Clearly, something you need to be taught."

"Oh. Well… No, I don't know."

"Walk over there. To where the wall stands. Tell me what you see, feel, taste, hear, and scent."

I picked my way across the ashes carefully, glancing around as if there might be a body to find. But the monsters had all turned to dust. The air was thick and hot in here. By the time I made it to the far wall, I was too busy coughing to focus on my senses.

But, knowing I'd been ordered, I stifled the spasms and listened. I heard almost nothing. Just the shift of wind and ash. But something in my chest was vibrating, just a little bit. I saw nothing out of the ordinary. I dared take a whiff, choking on more ash, but as I coughed I knew I could taste something – something familiar, I know I'd seen it before…

…It was sweet, very sweet, with a bitter aftertaste.

I had no name for the scent and taste. Just memories to associate it with – the Battle of the Labyrinth, and the bright-eyed child's body. Suddenly scared of that smell, knowing it meant only bad news, I quickly darted back across the room.

Kronos blinked slowly at me. "Well? Anything out of the ordinary?"

I nodded, on the verge of blurting out so much more, but knew better than to answer more than I'd been asked. I bit my tongue to keep silent.

Kronos turned to Hunter. "Now, you go tell me what you smell."

When Hunter got back, she was coughing as well, but here eyes glittered with annoyance. She clearly didn't see value in this. Neither did Ethan, but he was more likely to keep his mouth shut.

"And what did you find?" Kronos prompted.

"In there? Just smells of ash. Once I got over there I tasted something awfully bitter, wasn't sure what it was. Then I got back here and realized it was just the fact you hadn't taken a shower in days. I could smell it all the way over there," she smiled, eyes cold.

Kronos smiled back at her in the same manner. "If it bothers you, you can teach me how to work the gods-forsaken controls."

Ethan, who looked quite uncomfortable, stared at the ground and cleared his throat.

Kronos took it as an excuse to get back on track. "Right, right. Bree, did you smell something bitter?"

"…No, my lord. Something sweet."

"Ah. And what does that lead you to conclude?"

"What are we learning here, exactly?" I asked before I could censor it.

He scowled. "How to _think,_ genius. You, a child of the Underworld, smelled something sweet. With a sharp aftertaste, too, if I guessed correctly?" I stared in shock. "Yes, I see I was right. What do you think caused the difference between you?"

"…I'm an Underworld freak?" I tried.

"Precisely," he smiled. "What both of you sensed was death. Your Underworld senses are stronger, and it's easier for you to pick out specifics. But you haven't yet pushed your senses far enough to comprehend the death of monsters. And now what can we conclude?"

"That whoever bombed the place died, too?" Hunter guessed.

Kronos considered for a moment. "…Yes, I guess so. But there's a more likely option."

We both thought on that for a while. Had I been forced to study Kronos's 'Wanted: Dead or Alive" list like Hunter, and if she had done so for longer, we might've come up with the answer on our own.

As it was, behind Kronos's back, Ethan had to jerk his head towards my sword and mouth something at me. I didn't quite catch it the first two times, but by the third I had an idea, and on the fourth I confirmed it.

_Brother._

"…Son of Hades?" I ventured. "My Greek brother?"

Kronos gave me another forced smile. "Yes. You two little devils reek of death. And since there are no remains, we can assume that no one was killed and it was simply him."

"He doesn't do bombs, last I looked," Ethan pointed out.

"No. But he fought against us at the Battle of the Labyrinth. He collapsed half my palace. And he holds a grudge against us; you know that," Kronos spat. "If Percy or Annabeth asked him to, I'm sure he'd have no problem tossing dynamite into our midst and poofing off like a _Stygian _little coward!"

Styx, I had realized not long ago, was somewhat of a cuss word in this world.

Kronos sighed and turned, walking away from the room, leaving us to follow. I wasn't sure if we were supposed to – didn't the room need cleaning before the ash blew into the rest of the palace? Already I saw it fogging up hallways. But, along with Hunter and Ethan, I didn't hesitate to obey and stick to his heels.

"Now," he was saying, "it would make sense for them to strike at us again so fast. Just like this. Not a major attack, no, that'd be suicide and they know it." A pleased chuckle. "But this? This is their way of saying that they're still alive. This is their attempt to scare us. Though I can promise you it won't work."

"Who's scared of just a little dynamite?" Hunter chuckled. "It's C4 you want – you know, if you want some, I got a guy back in Seattle-"

"He got arrested two days before we left," I cut her off. It was a lie, and she knew it, but she took the hint and didn't continue.

"My lord," Ethan said. "If… If the son of Hades can shadow travel, or uses Shadow Form like Bree can, how do we know we're not giving him all our information every time we speak?"

Kronos shook his head. "No. Do not be fooled. Bree is not a half-blood, Ethan. I doubt this son of Hades has the energy reserves she does, or even a Shadow Form. Not to mention he's been in hiding until now – don't you think there's a reason for that? Hades and his children, though this one might be allied with Camp Half-Blood, do not like the Olympians. They would never serve us, but neither would they help Olympus, not unless it was for their own benefit. They are loners. I can bet you that Hades won't even raise a finger as we charge through Olympus's streets. He won't put up a fight. He won't help his brothers, and neither will his son."

"His son just bombed us," I said flatly.

"And I can bet you he won't do it again," Kronos growled. "Trust me when I say this; he will act on his own from now on. He might like the displeasure he caused us, but he won't take kindly to orders. This is not hard to understand. You are new to this world, but if you weren't, it would be such a simple fact no one would need speak it. It'd just be what everyone expects."

"Doesn't he have better things to do?" Ethan muttered.

"I'm sure he does," Kronos added, "another reason not to worry about him. Yet. Later in this war, he may cause problems. But I have a plan to take care of that, as well as Annabeth, before it gets that far. No, when the battle for Olympus comes, it will be Percy against all of us." His gaze settled somewhere in the distance, and his voice quieted. He was no longer speaking to us demigods. "Yes. Yes, just him. I like that very much. We will bring Olympus down one day, I promise it to everyone. The world will find its vengeance, and it'll find it through me."

_***space***_

"Grido shot first. I'm positive."

"That's impossible! He died! It had to be Han Solo!"

"Han Solo's just so awesome, he was smart enough to copy my style and slow down the bullet with his epic _I'm-so-much-hotter-than-you _time powers."

"Han Solo is human. He couldn't have done that. He shot first."

"Have you watched the slow-motion version?"

"Well… no. Do you have it?"

"You got a remote?"

"What's a remote?"

Hunter sighed and shoved the heel of her palm into her forehead, the classic face-palm. "Man, you are so out of touch with modern times."

"As are you with the Ancient," Kronos replied evenly.

Another Saturday spent training. On top of the confusion of defending against different weapons, memorizing each one's weaknesses, strengths, and things to avoid, I'd had to listen to this conversation all day.

We were on our way to dinner. Hunter had discovered, so long her father was in a good mood, he was a sucker for being drawn into arguments. During which they both found quite satisfying to say things that'd normally get her blasted to ashes.

Things such as what she was saying now.

"You have total lack of swag. You should know your new battlefield, genius. You should record some of the lessons you give us, review them in your room, and take notes."

"I know the battlefield better than you do."

"Do you know how to drive a car? More importantly, how to _hit _something with a car?"

"No."

"There you go. You _don't _know it entirely, regardless how much_ I _really know, so therefore you should be my student. Just for a day."

"That makes no sense," he grumbled.

"It does in my world. You know, the modern one. The one you're in now."

"Oh, shut up!"

Not only were the arguments endearing, but during them, Kronos picked up all her slang. And it was odd, sometimes even awkward, to hear her words from his mouth. My sister's – my mother's – words coming from a man I didn't and could never trust. A man who'd (possibly) tortured and killed my friend.

At dinner, which felt as routine as my classes at school used to by now, we made a little small talk. Mainly with Ethan and Brianna, the only ones who knew us. Anyone who didn't was sending nervous glances Hunter's way – if the news of her parentage kept spreading at this rate, Kronos wouldn't need to make an official announcement. Unless, of course, he wanted to publically look less intimidating but have the direct opposite effect in reality. Which may be true.

"Herald's busy today," Brook noted mildly. I waited ten seconds before glancing in his direction – sure enough, he was busy whispering to other well-known traders, some of whom I knew by name.

"He tried to buy some of my poison the other day," Brook continued, motioning to her pocket. Inside, she kept the vials Ethan had given her for magic practice.

"Gods forbid he get a grip on that," Brianna muttered. "He offered me a dozen drachma yesterday for my 'services', but I chased him off before he could explain exactly what he meant."

Ethan shrugged. "He haggles with everyone. Doesn't make you special or the opposite; nor that for him. Skilled trader, a little shady, best ignored. But he'd give his life in an instant for the same causes that you and I are sitting here for."

If nothing else, that boy certainly had an interesting view of the world.

"Okay, so when'd you turn pacifist?" Hunter inquired.

He shrugged again. "I'm not going to pick a fight that isn't worthwhile. Somebody'll just get killed. Now, if he pestered me for more than five minutes at a time, I'd have perfectly viable reason to attack him. But he knows his trade; he's more likely to be successful if he leaves a stubborn client to cool off, then come back later."

Ah. There goes the pacifist.

"I don't think he's trading right now," Brianna noted, glancing at the group again. Herald had turned away from us, huddling in with a few of his trader friends. There was no exchange of money or goods.

"Not to mention," Ethan continued, "one day you might regret having pissed him off. He can have some very useful stuff, when the time is right. Albeit that the situation's rare."

Hunter was slowly nodding. She understood the situation well. "Good point. Though for the time being, we're all happily set. Unless he happens to have C4."

"He had a stash two weeks back. Not sure if he still has it-"

"SHUT UP!" Brook and I burst, terror exploding inside much faster than any amount of C4.

Ethan stared at us with wide, sharp eyes, divided between analyzing the reaction and being angry at us for it.

"You don't want it in her hands, is all," I said, poking at my stroganoff. I had become quite fond of it, much like the sword. Though I wasn't about to attempt to swallow the latter.

Brook nodded. "We got expelled the last time she got a hold of some."

Pouting, Hunter thwacked us both solidly upside the head. "You little traitors."

_***end***_

_**READ: We posted these three chapters earlier today. However, for some reason, they did not show up. I am reposting them now. I apologize for the delay. -Nyx**_

Nic: Hm….

Nyx: Stroganoff!

Nic: Yes, I see that. You sent me picture, remember?

Nyx: We're out of stroganoff now.

Nic: I figured.

Nyx: Hello, people! (What else should I address you as? Fans? I find that a little conceded. If I ever offend u guys, for any reason, just let me know, btw.) Happy new… week? I forgot to say Happy New Year in January.

Nic: Thank you for those who reviewed! The one person that was! Thanks for your continued support. It's good to know people are listening. (or reading?).

Nyx: I'm hungry. I got up earlier today, but I haven't had breakfast…. Working my way back to my usual schedule on the weekends. Should stop staying up so late on Fridays.

Nic: What if you have something to do?

Nyx: My typical Friday consists of me, my computer, its writing programs, lots of good music (Three Days Grace, Green Day, Rise Against, Shinedown, Seether, Skillet, Fall Out Boy), and my cat. Lack of a social life is how I get everything I write, written. I love it just the way it is.


	18. Off-Time

DISCLAIMER: Rick Riordan owns PJatO! This story is called a fan-fiction, after all! We have no intent to steal his awesomeness. We own Herald, Bree, Brook, Brianna, and Hunter. Nothing more.

_***begin***_

"Are you sure about this?" Ethan asked in a skeptical tone. A faked one, though, because he wasn't about to let them know how nervous he was, maybe even a little scared.

"Totally," Hunter said, grinning in a way that said her opinion shouldn't be taken into account.

"If it was anyone else, then yes, we would be…" Bree said, eyes locked on their target. Ethan decided that was a much more accurate answer.

"Ssh! He's getting closer!" Brook hissed. Sure enough, their target was now moving down the hall, towards the room where they hid. They all ducked lower, hiding behind the fallen pillar – they were on the edge of the Black Wall's destruction zone.

Kronos's footsteps echoed as he entered, frowning, focused on a small glowing device. He muttered something inaudible and stood in the middle of the room, perfectly still, too still to be human.

"Alright," Hunter mouthed, not daring make a sound. Now that she knew he had the phone, they were good to go. Bree's hands flashed out, without warning, and the world went black.

It was just a short moment. Blinking took longer. But that didn't stop the flash of cold, dark air, and inhuman noises from making Ethan's skin crawl. They'd moved so fast, he hadn't felt he could breathe. The dark shades around them had been sinister, immensely powerful, and superior in a way that said they were so because they didn't _have _to make a move – you knew your place perfectly well, right at the bottom of the food chain.

But it was all gone in a flash. Ethan stumbled on the concrete that suddenly materialized beneath his feet, but he knew the room well – the girls' dorm, 333. It looked just like every other dorm in this palace.

Hunter pulled a cell phone from her pocket. "Alright. Just a few minutes – give him some time to figure out the keypad."

"Explain this to me again?" Ethan asked, sitting on the nearest cot. He hadn't really been into pranks back at Camp, which he could hardly remember, and since then he'd been alone. Being at Mount Othrys and among people again was so strange. He felt bigger than when he had alone – his surroundings no longer felt alive, no longer the bigger unit above you. No, the crowd had taken its place, and in it he was awkward and bumped into people way too often.

"Well, demigods aren't supposed to use cell phones, right? Stray monsters read the signals and come chase you?"

"Yes," Ethan confirmed, "though inside Camp they're relatively safe."

"Well, Luke mentioned that Annabeth had a phone. You know, before Kronos killed him and took over. However, I noticed that the number Kronos had was lacking an area code." She smiled wickedly. "So I helped him devise a plan to get a phone and call the number in an effort to assassinate the enemy's strategist. But…."

"…Since you don't know the area code and can't access the phone, anyway…" Brook drawled in a bored tone, though her eyes darted around excitedly over a stifled smile.

"…You decided to have fun with it," Bree said, and she really wasn't smiling.

"Are you sure," Ethan asked for the billionth time, "that pranking the Crooked One is the best idea?"

"Oh, relax! We've been here for over a month! We're totally chill."

That answer, like the billion others Hunter had given him, failed to ease the way his stomach was turning over. He dimly wondered if it'd make an interesting omelet.

Omelets. His father used to make omelets.

He scowled and shook his head, by this point long used to cutting his thoughts off sharply. He had to be, for his own good. Looking for a distraction, because he doubted the nervousness and fear was worse than his childhood memories, he turned back to Hunter.

"That phone's got the right number?" he asked, partly to start up conversation again, partly hoping Kronos would end up dialing some random mortal and not them.

"It sure does!" Hunter beamed. "OOOH SHUSH! SOMEONE'S CALLING!"

"Here we go," Bree said as Hunter answered and put it on speaker.

A tentative voice, recognizable as Kronos, came over the line. "…Hello?"

Nobody said a word, waiting for Hunter's command.

Kronos spoke again. "…Did I get the numbers right?" As if any other random person would know.

Then, Hunter put on a big fake smile and in her cheeriest voice said, "Congratulations! By being the fiftieth caller today to-"

Bree and Brook, knowing their part, sang the familiar jingle. "RIIIICOLA!"

And Hunter jumped right back in, making the whole thing sound seamless. "-You have won a prize!"

"Excuse me?" Kronos asked, while Ethan stared with wide, shocked eyes, too stunned to speak. He hadn't been told this part of the plan.

Hunter went on without noticing. "Thank you for calling-"

"RIIIICOLA!"

"-But unfortunately, nobody here at-"

"RIIIICOLA!"

"-Is available right now. Push one to be put on hold, and someone from-"

"RIIIICOLA!"

"-Will be with you shortly."

"Are you guys crazy?" Ethan hissed, panic rising in his throat when he imagined Kronos's fury if he ever found out.

"What the Styx is this?!" Kronos yelled, angry now. Ethan cursed and flinched, because that's what you did when the Lord of Time was angry at you. No questions asked.

"Or, if you may hang up on," Hunter continued.

"RIIIICOLA!"

"And call-"

"RIIIICOLA!"

"Back later today, and someone from-"

"RIIIICOLA!"

"Will be with you then. Thanks again for calling-"

"RIIIICOLA!"

"Call again soon!"

"RIIIICOLA!"

Then, they all fell silent, waiting for Kronos's reaction before hanging up.

What they got was a few angrily muttered words, interlaced with static and distance. "What the… fudge? Truck? What was that word Hunter said…?"

Red-faced, shaking, and clearly unable to stand any more, Hunter hit the cancel button and burst out laughing. And, to Ethan's continued surprise, so did the other two. He even caught Bree smiling.

The only thing Ethan felt was horror. "What-?! How-?! Freaking _crazy…!"_

Words had abandoned him again, and if it weren't for the way it made the girls laugh harder, this time at him, he wouldn't have minded.

Anger boiled inside, but he knew better than to stutter and make a fool of himself again. He grit his teeth – that was the _last _thing he wanted. So he resolved to stand there and glare until they noticed and stopped laughing.

But when they saw, they didn't stop. They just smiled. Eventually, when she'd gained enough breath to speak, Hunter said, "That, my brain-deprived servant, was a prank call. About time we had some normality around here."

"Normality?!" he burst. First the Battle of the Labyrinth, then China, then the shadows, and now this? "You've done this _before?"_

"Lots of people make prank calls in the human world," Brook said simply, shrugging. White teeth shone through bright lips in her cheerful smile. Her innocent, childish face, uncovering some long-dead instinct, made Ethan's throat clench. She was far from innocent, he knew, since the Labyrinth. Yet she still looked so dang perfect, the ideal image of childhood, as if hers wasn't as screwed up as his. It wasn't, not really, but it was close. A childhood without parents.

Unless you counted Bree and Hunter as a couple, but Ethan was pretty sure that wasn't their relationship.

Long used to keeping all his thoughts off his face, he scowled and said, "I _know _that. I'm not stupid."

"Correction; _we _make a lot of prank calls in the human world," Hunter said. Bree nodded agreement. With a slight twinge of what Ethan found was disappointment, he saw the raven-haired girl had abandoned her smile once more. "It's an old tradition. A classic, really, that we always try to put our own spin on." She bowed with a flourish. "It is my beloved art, young grasshopper."

"I'm not hopping any grass," Ethan muttered, not even _trying _to decipher what her last word meant.

Bree chuckled but still insisted on frowning, examining him with those obsidian eyes. She didn't comment.

"So, what do we do now?" Brook asked, sitting down on her cot and swaying back and forth.

"Well, we're in here studying our Ancient Greek like good little students," Hunter said. "We should probably get to that, just to have something to say if he asks us about it."

Ethan sighed and, pulling from his pocket the sheet's he'd prepared earlier (by now he knew that teachers, no matter how much they found their job annoying, were better off being prepared) and handed them to her. "There's the alphabet. First is the English, then the Greek mark, then how you'd say the name, then the sound it makes. S'not so hard, once you get used to it. Easier than English."

Bree peeked over Hunter's shoulder at the paper, then glanced at Ethan. "I recognize these. Our math teachers liked to use them."

"Demigods are the ones that started using Greek variables," Ethan said, not quite sure what variables were but knowing the fact from somewhere he couldn't recall. "Using English was too hard on their minds. Supposedly, the further into magic and the Ancient world you go, the harder it is to comprehend English. Though technically, as demigods, we're supposed to be the link between the two and shouldn't lean towards one excessively except in times of distress. Like now."

Bree's gaze had locked on him, shining, her full attention focused on his words. Intelligence flashed in her eyes, followed quickly by Brook. This was the only reason he still agreed to teach them – they listened, they got it, and successful communication comforted Ethan. He found, actually, it was much easier to talk to these three than anyone else he'd known.

Maybe it was because their conversations actually got interesting. Like now. Bree got up and shuffled through a small chest of stuff. "Are there more letters than what's on that page?"

"No," he answered. "What do you have in mind?"

Because Bree always had something interesting on her mind.

"This," she said, holding out a paper. "Glyphs. Are they part of the alphabet, particularly this one?"

Glyphs. This was about that son of Hecate. Crap – he knew that they were worried about him. The best thing would be if he just vanished – if his mention never came up, if they forgot, which they would eventually. But if they brought him up now, Ethan might find himself in a tight spot. But he was used to lying by now – he ran over his cover story quickly in his mind, confirming it, remembering the character he was to play. Piece of cake.

He wasn't about to burden them with the truth. He wouldn't wish that on little Brook, mischievous Hunter, or even the cold-faced Bree. At least, not yet, despite the way his throat burned to speak up.

"No," he said, answering Bree's question. "And I wouldn't know anything on them. Of what I recall, though, I don't even think that's a glyph."

"But what if it is?" she asked. "Look, I didn't draw it consciously. But it's all over the paper. Do you think that means anything?"

Ethan was beginning to relax, seeing that this was a harmless question just on magic and not the dead boy, and examined the paper carefully. He recognized it in an instant now that it'd been pointed out. "Huh. It could."

"It could?" she repeated dully, her way of telling him that she wasn't satisfied.

"Yes, it could. More likely so than a human in your situation. But not rock-solid. Nobody really has a written log of all glyphs made, so you can't look it up. And they're really only for Hecate and her kids – the ones that work abstractly in all sorts of magic, and specifically in a few specialized branches. Not for normal demigods."

"What if it's from a specialized branch?" Bree insisted, longing in her voice. It'd been a while since Ethan heard color in people's tones. "What if this glyph can't be used by the Hecate kids, because it's different? What if it's from a league of magic demigods have forgotten over the years?"

He caught on fast, snapping his gaze back up to look at her. Her eyes were sharp, curious, and furiously so. Starving for an answer. "You mean the Underworld?"

"Yes," she said. Behind her, Brook nodded, clearly having been over this before.

Ethan studied the glyph again, thinking. Was it possible? Maybe, but doubtable. He'd always assumed that the Hecate kids knew about the Underworld branch of magic, but didn't use it for a reason. He shuddered. No wonder – what dead and undead he'd ever come into contact with had just tried to bite his head off. Several times. Not to mention the rumored insane son of Hades lurking around. No, that magic was better left alone, no matter who you were. Bree should stick to her shadows. They were Underworld enough.

He shoved the paper back at her. "Forget it. It's not possible. Underworld magic has never involved glyphs, anyway. If I were you, I'd put more work into your sword than into that."

Bree frowned at the paper, not disappointed, but rebellion flitting in her eyes. She'd stopped listening right when she'd heard something she didn't want to listen to. No, the hot curiosity was still there, accompanied by annoyance now. He knew that she was going to look into it, whether he said it was wise or not. "…Right. Right."

Just then, the door burst open, and they all jumped. The loud noise brought back memories of snarling demons and painful claws – Ethan's hand flew to his sword and he leapt to his feet in a defensive stance. He wasn't about to die, not now, and certainly not them-

But it was only Kronos, frowning alternately between them and his phone, deeply troubled by something. Eventually, he asked, "Do you know what Ricola is?"

Hunter blinked dumbly at him. "A cough drop company, last I looked, but don't take my word for it. I'm not a hundred percent sure."

_***space***_

"Where's Kronos and Ethan?" Brook asked, a bounce in her step, as usual. It set a warm feeling inside – despite my new distance with Hunter, and Brook's anger on the subject, she was still the same as always.

Michelle gave a sly chuckle and shook her head. "War meeting."

"Shouldn't you be there with them, then?" Hunter asked.

Michelle shrugged and shook her head again. "Ssssmall sscale, not for everyone. Jussst the monsssters leading larger groupsss."

"Do all of them have a lisssp?" Hunter asked in such a serious voice I almost choked.

Michelle frowned. "No. Bessides, I wasss the only one lord Kronoss trusssted enough to watch over you three."

"Joy. I feel so loved," Hunter muttered.

"You sssshould," Michelle crooned as she slithered down the hallway, us three standing well back to avoid her snake-like feet. "I will take good care of you, ssshild."

"Hm," I said, pulling Brook a little closer to me.

Michelle took us to our private clearing and drew a trident and a weighted net. "Lord Kronosss ssaid you were working on fighting different weaponsss, yessss?"

"Yes, ma'am," Brook said politely. She was willing to give Michelle a chance.

Michelle smiled. "Good. You, on the end. Ssstep forward." Hunter did, drawing her scythe. The snake-lady gave the weapon a cold glare. "Letsss sssee why the lord favorssss you sso much, ssshall we?"

Well, maybe not everyone knew Hunter's parentage. It made more sense that the monsters would be last to know, though I wondered what stories they'd made up to explain her enhanced scent.

Brook and I watched, analyzing, as they fought. Hunter was smart and fast enough to avoid the net – though she didn't use magic – and parry the trident's strike. Michelle put up a good stand with it, clearly pretty experienced compared to others of her species. However, she had not studied under Kronos for a month. And Hunter, who'd known nothing before hand, had.

Not to mention that nobody really wanted to be wielding a trident against a scythe.

As her weapon clattered to the floor and the scythe leveled with her throat, Michelle gave that cold smile and hungry glare again, hissing with pleasure. "Good, ssshild. Not bad."

Hunter snorted and sheathed her scythe, nodding in respect as most did (or shook hands, or some even bowed) after a duel. Then she turned to join ranks with me and Brook once more.

As she did, something darted out and tugged on her foot.

She stumbled but didn't trip, regaining her balance eagerly, and shooting a furious glare over her shoulder. Michelle smiled again and waved her hand. As if she were flirting, almost.

I growled. When a monster invited you to dinner, they didn't like you. If they teased you about it, they thought you were pathetic and easy pickings. Which, as I had picked up on quickly, was an insult to any demigod. We were not built to withdraw from challenges.

Hunter's eyes narrowed as she slowly returned to her spot, hostility radiating from her like heat off a fire. I could see the look on her face – oh, so this was how Michelle wanted to play? Fine. Hunter didn't get mad. Hunter didn't get even – she did better.

Michelle turned her plastic smile to Brook. "You nexssst, ssschild. Let me ssse your daggersss."

Brook, who'd also seen the exchange and clearly didn't like Michelle either, drew her daggers and marched forward with a determined look on her face.

Michelle smiled and bowed politely, then pinned her under a sharp green gaze. My stomach twisted. Next to me, Hunter tensed. If Michelle touched Brook….

Brook bowed in return, arms and respective daggers crossed over her chest. Then they drew their weapons, took battle stances, and began to circle one another for an opening.

I knew my sister well enough to sense her attack. The only sign she gave was the brief flutter of her eyelids, focusing on her target.

As soon as she did, Michelle spoke. "You know, not many would bow like that, ssshild. Mossst heroesss here have lossst ressspect for their parentsss and cussstomsss alike. They won't ssshow ressspect until you earn it."

There was truth in what she said – until one earned respect, you entered duels with the simple dip of a head. Only those revered among their peers for their skills in a fight were bowed to. And most people here were hard to convince.

However, she'd spoken as Brook leaned forward to attack, and forced her to stop. But as soon as her words were gone, before Brook could retaliate, she lunged instead.

I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms. The ugly little traitor. Brook dashed quickly to one side, avoiding the net and trident, slicing out with her daggers as she went. But the move was sloppy and she made no cut.

Michelle revealed her true strength then. The speed of a snake. She snapped around and shoved the trident upwards, an unmonitored thrust, and a deadly one. Hunter cussed and strode forward, using time magic behind her back, there at her back in an instant.

But Brook was gone. I blinked – I hadn't seen her move. But she had dodged again, keeping low, sliding on the cobblestones as if this was easy for her. Then, mimicking Michelle's last move, lunged upwards with daggers pointed.

Michelle looked shocked now, reptile eyes wide, fangs bared in a dissatisfied, wordless hiss. Brook, glaring angrily, did not dip her head, bow, or move to shake her hand.

Instead, she drew her knives back slowly, refusing to take her eyes off the demon as she retreated back to us. Then it was my turn.

I can't say there was much to this one, either. Michelle was pretty dang fast when she wanted to be. Nearly ran me through with the trident. But she just gave bursts of speed – she was not good at keeping a steady pace, and that made it almost too easy to slip past her guard and disable her sword arm. Anyone could've done it.

I dimly reflected that she was supposed to be the leader, the superior snake-lady. If that was the case, I understood why Kronos needed demigods so badly.

The rest of the day, we didn't make an offensive move at her like she did us. Several times she could've easily killed us, though Kronos often did that as well, leaving us to our own wits to survive. But she did it more often, and very deliberately. We didn't try anything like that – we just refused to acknowledge any of it as an official, respected duel. We let her know we knew she was playing dirty, but didn't sink to that level ourselves.

She didn't ssspeak another word to us, either.

_***end***_

Nyx: I feel very proud of that prank call scene.

Nic: We've had so many good times doing that….

*glance at each other, then at readers*

Both: RIIIIIICOLA!

Nyx: Pretty good cough drops….


	19. The Social Game

DISCLAIMER:

Nyx: Oooh, look at this! *holds PJatO series into the light*

Nico: What is that? *hiding in corner, glaring suspiciously*

Nic: *casually throws a knife at him. It embeds itself in the wall* It's Rick Riordan's best work ever.

Nyx: Watch where you're throwing those things. He has fan service. *hides black dagger behind back. Shirt says, _Team di Angelo._*

_***begin***_

That night at dinner, we talked to Ethan about it.

He shrugged. "There are people here like that, too. Lots. If I hadn't been assigned to teach you, hadn't known you, the first day I wouldn't have nodded or bowed, either. Though tripping and cheating is a jerkish, low blow. Don't think too much about it. Though tell me – when the situation got dangerous, why didn't you play your parentage card, Hunter?"

Brianna nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. She wouldn't have dared if she knew who you were, or if you showed her your true skills. Like your magic and stuff."

Hunter glanced around, gaze landing on Kronos. "…I decided not to show my hand just yet. She was just a jerk, and we can deal with that. If she takes another step in the wrong direction, I have a plan to set into action that'll put her in her place."

"Plan?" I asked, eager to do anything to upset Michelle. I was almost grateful for her mistreatment – providing two arguers with a common enemy was a great way to forge a temporary alliance, and now I was beginning to realize how much I'd missed Hunter's full company. Even the during the phone prank, I'd felt distance between us. She hadn't spoken directly to me once.

She flicked her hand in dismissal, ignoring my offer to help. "No. Leave it to me."

Well, so much for a common enemy. Glory hog.

Ethan was shaking his head again. "Careful, guys. Getting rid of Michelle won't help anybody. Just deprive us of a warrior. There are more jerks like her all over the place. It's not worth getting noticed over, because then you'll really have trouble surrounding you. Some people here… Some of them come off bad. Their hostility towards Olympus isn't always channel correctly. We've all grown up with twisted childhoods. It's not their fault, but they could hurt you. Seriously."

"Hurt me?" Hunter muttered, dropping her spoon. She froze it above the table.

Ethan gulped and glanced from it to her. "Well, maybe not. Nor Bree. But Brook, definitely. And if they caught one of you alone, and you were outnumbered enough…"

"Shadow travel," I said.

He sighed heavily. "Fine. Don't listen. But there are too many gangs and jerks around here, just like in any society, for you to beat all of them. Keep that in mind before you decide to run around playing sheriff. The best way to survive around here is to remain unnoticed."

_***space. Man, I should be more creative with these. Next week it'll look interesting.***_

"Remain unnoticed," Hunter scoffed. "Didn't he say before that that I should've revealed my parentage?"

"If you revealed your parentage," I pointed out, "people would leave you alone. Nobody would notice what you do or don't. And, for the record, if they did see something they'd _pretend _they didn't notice. I don't think Ethan meant, 'be insignificant.'"

She sighed and plunked down on her cot. "Well, that's a bit hard, seeing as the day after tomorrow Father wants to unleash my parentage on everyone."

"I just explained that," I sighed, a little annoyed. Of course she wouldn't listen to me.

"I know, I know. And it offers you two some sort of protection so long I'm around. But people might realize that, if they can catch you alone, you'll be their best shot of getting to me."

"And we're assuming everyone's our enemy?" Brook muttered.

"Not necessarily an enemy," Hunter mused. "We're on the same side. But we're all unfriendly with one another. It's every man for himself."

"That doesn't seem like good comradeship, and it's bound to have its disadvantages in a war," Brook pointed out.

Hunter shrugged. "Kronos keeps those to a minimum."

Their conversation had left me and, knowing Hunter would shove me out if I tried to rejoin, I pulled my sheet of glyphs out and examined it carefully. Like I could read answers there. But I needed a translator, apparently. Something to decipher that one glyph that kept showing up…

Absently, my fingers ran across the paper, fascinated by the design and frustrated as to what it might mean.

Then, suddenly, I was aware of the silence in the room.

I looked up. "What?"

Hunter pointed at the paper again. "Touch that one more time."

"What? Like this?" I did.

This time, I saw Brook flinch and gasp. Hunter cocked her head to one side, curious. They weren't looking at the paper, though – they were staying at me.

"…What?" I asked, sensing something wrong. "What's going on?"

"Your eyes," Hunter breathed. "They flashed purple. When you touched your little mark thing there. Like dark purple."

Brook nodded eagerly, her own sharp eyes wide and fixed on mine, like she didn't want to miss any chance of it happening again.

I pondered that for a moment. Flashing eyes. Honestly, it wasn't the strangest thing that'd reared its head in my life recently. Eventually I sighed and put the paper away. "Well, I'm tired. These purple eyes feel heavy. Good night."

"You don't want to find out more about it?" Brook asked.

I sent a glance at Hunter, who had turned away. I could feel the cold distance coming back, settling into its usual place between us. The phenomenon of my flashing eyes was not enough to keep her interested. "…No, not right now. I'm good."

_***space***_

"He looks frustrated," Ethan noted at breakfast the next day, eye focused on where Herald was talking to Hunter. By his slick movements and raised eyebrows, we could tell he was offering her something.

He didn't seem to be making a deal. Eventually he scowled at her, muttered something sharp, and retreated back to his pack of fellow traders. They began to whisper reverently.

"I'm beginning to get a grip on this," I said, looking around the table. Breakfast technically hadn't started yet, and some of the early risers were milling around. Since I've been getting up at the butt-crack of dawn for as long as I can remember, I was one of them, along with my sisters. Ethan… Well, I don't know, it seemed quite predictable of Ethan. "I can see cliques, sort of. Guilds, more like, maybe. I can see how hostilities can build."

Social studies had always been my worst subject in school. I had trouble comprehending just all the happenings in history, how, and why. But now I was getting the hang of applying some concepts here. Like Socs and Greasers.

"They can, quite quickly. Stick with Hunter and Brook," Ethan murmured. He made a three-fingered claw over his chest with his left hand and jerked it out quickly. I learned later that this was a sign for warding off evil.

"Let's hope it doesn't end with another dead kid," I muttered under my breath.

His head snapped up, green eye sharp and wide. "What?!"

I frowned at him. "Nothing."

His eye narrowed and studied me for a moment before slowly turning back to the table. "Well, I guess you're right."

I shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to make of that.

Behind us, there came a sharp hissing noise. "Ah, itsss you again."

Ethan and I turned around, finding ourselves face-to-face with Michelle. She smiled and waved her fingers at us.

The son of Nemesis growled at her. "Michelle."

"Ssshild. Raven-haired ssshild," she greeted us. "I wasss jussst on my way to ssspeak to Kronosss about your ssskillsss."

"The ones you assessed yesterday?" I asked, standing up straighter. I hadn't known that she was giving a report.

She gave me that cold smile again. "Yesss. When you forgot just about everything you've been taught. A couple other monsssters will hear it, too. You'll be famousss before long, ssshild."

I heard the threat in her voice. Telling other monsters, and telling them I sucked. She was slapping the price tag on a piece of meat at the store. I scowled and stepped forward, sword drawn-

-And Ethan got between us, his own weapon sheathed, standing unguarded before her and shielding me behind his back.

Michelle looked at him disdainfully. It was then that I realized what he was doing – he knew, here in public, she couldn't raise a finger against an unarmed ally demigod. Especially one of Kronos's favorites.

Slowly, she began to hiss, and backed off. Meters away, she turned and began to move faster, losing herself in the loose crowd.

I stepped out from around Ethan, torn between being peeved at his intervention and a newfound awe, respect, even, for what he'd done. "…You realize that you've just stepped into our fight with her, right? It wasn't your business before."

He stared after her and shrugged. "…Yeah, I know. I know."

"So why'd you get involved?"

His gaze snapped back to mine. "Because if you get killed, I'm in trouble, remember?"

Oh. Right. I stared at my shoes, embarrassed. "Oh, alright, then…"

He sighed and made for the table, eating the marble away beneath his lengthy strides.

_***space***_

At dinner that night, people seemed unusually friendly.

Herald had left early due to his own business. Brook, Ethan, and Brianna were deep in a conversation about chess strategies. Ethan's eye lit up like fireworks, which was something new. I made a note of it in my mental records and looked for Hunter.

She was talking to Kronos, who was nodding as he listened but focused on a yellow bag in his hands. I choked and struggled not to laugh when I saw what it was – a bag of Ricola cough drops.

Kronos hadn't said anything about our 'lousy' performance with Michelle the day before. I was thinking about that and watched as she took the bag from him and ripped it open, then handed it back. His lips twitched and he said something I couldn't catch. Then she smiled, a genuine smile, and said, "You're welcome, Dad."

Dad.

First of all, that looked so weird, seeing as Kronos appeared to be in his _twenties._ Not only that, but once more, I was mixing my image of Hunter with my image of him. They contrasted so sharply it made my head hurt and eyes cross.

I shook my head vigorously, clearing it. Not now. Don't think about that now.

Don't think about how she kept going farther and farther away. Don't think about how as she does, she's going closer to him.

Maybe that's why I was convinced Kronos had killed the son of Hecate. Perhaps I was just jealous of his new relationship with Hunter, and was looking for something to slander him with.

I sighed and reached for my bracers, which I had taken off to eat, to find they weren't there. Crap. I leapt up and searched the room for anyone carrying my pair – I needed those, and I only got one set from the armory – and, sure enough, saw a dark green figure disappearing quite rapidly into the crowd.

I drew my sword and, without hesitation, followed Michelle through the monsters to the doors.

Once out she really hit the gas, darting down hallways and corridors so fast it was hard to follow. I sprinted to keep up, making sure to place my feet and weight carefully, and managed to do so without making a single sound.

Michelle kept going farther and farther into the guy's dorms, where less were occupied. I wasn't sure where her nest was – and as I'd never been back here, it could very well be just around the bend.

Farther…. Farther…. I was catching up now….

_Smack._

I didn't hear it, much less see it. But I felt it. Pain exploded in my head out of nowhere, and my sense of balance vanished. I dimly registered the _whoosh _of air leaving my lungs as I landed, lost in the spinning of the world, head pounding angrily.

"Little ssslow to ssstrike, aren't you?" A voice, far off, but familiar. I couldn't name where I'd heard it before.

"It was a good hit!" Another, louder, making my headache worse. I didn't know this one.

Gasping for breath, I tried to sort through the mess in my head. The corridor tipped, spun, and swirled. I could feel a tight knot now, a concentrated point of pain on the right side where I'd been hit.

From somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard a voice. Ethan's. _Get up. The best way to get yourself killed is to fall and stay down._

Ethan hadn't been too happy with me when he said that, and I didn't think he was thrilled right now, either.

But I had to listen. He was right, and I could die here if I didn't move. I reached out with my arm and blinked several times, watching the colors swim by. Then I hauled myself up onto my arm, leaning on it, breaths finally calming down. My other hand instinctively moved to my head, where it'd been hit. That hand came back red.

I closed my eyes, resisting the pounding beat in my head, then opened them again as a hand grabbed my collar roughly. My fists clenched – my sword! It was gone!

"I thought I told you to bring us the blonde one," a new voice drawled, from down the corridor where I was facing. Michelle and the unnamed one were to my back, but I watched now as a familiar face stalked out of the shadows.

Herald.

"I got you what I could. The blonde wasss talking to Kronosss," Michelle said. "Besidesss, this one has a sssword, right? Once you have that, you can ussse her to get to the blonde one. And much easssier than by forccce. Sssee? Problem sssolved."

My hands moved as the rough hands yanked me up, shirt tightening on my throat. My fingers fumbled with my pocket, where I knew the faithful eraser would be.

A cold knife pressed against my wrist.

Before I could recall shadow travel – my mind was still scrambled – something hit me again. This one was across the face, a strong blow that stung and made my neck hurt.

The new pain, one not clogging my mind, snapped the adrenaline back into focus. I thrashed, knocking the knife aside and wriggling away from the strong grip. Someone cussed, and the hold began to slide away. Taking that as a good sign, I fought harder.

Another blow, this one in my stomach. Something thick and scaly wrapped around my shoulders –

-And I was gone, into the shadows.

Immediately, pain lanced through my mind. My head hurt a dozen times more. I don't think it's possible to trip as a shadow, but right then, I swear that's what happened.

I fell, crashing into the hallway floor again, which felt very real. The shadows had abandoned me. Something plunged into my side so hard I gasped, losing my air again. It was followed by another sharp blow to the head, two more to the back, another to the stomach. I coughed and choked. Blood trickled down my tongue.

But I was far from gracious about my fate. I fought back. My sword was in my hands in an instant, and though it was impossible to stand under the rain of blows, I slashed out and upwards with it. Someone yelped and jumped back, echoed by more voices. I rose to my knees before someone approached from a new angle – crap, too many of them – and the sword was lost again, and I crumpled back onto the carpet. It felt so soft compared to the hard limbs being slammed into me everywhere else.

"Hey! Hey! Back off!"

The voices obeyed at the bark of Herald's voice, backing up, but staying close. One grabbed my collar again and held me up on my knees, so I could stare up at him. The smirk on his face made me so angry I almost gave away my secret right then – but no, I held the shadows in, knowing they'd be my escape later.

Herald stopped in front of me, sharp eyes curious.

"What do you want?" I spat, out of breath and spitting out blood.

"You know what I want. I intend to get it. You must forgive me; I don't usually sink to this level, but you have something I need. Something everyone needs. And the blonde girl has more than that."

"You never told me what was ssso valuable about that one," Michelle pouted.

"Quiet! As for you, Bree, I want your sword. Stygian iron is a powerful thing. And people would pay a lot to be protected by that power. So you can hand it over now, or we can do this the hard way."

Before he'd finished speaking, to kill any reaction from me, someone planted their foot in my back. It felt like someone taking to it with a large, steel hammer. I gasped, choking, unable to stop the momentum from pushing me forward. The boy holding my shirt caught me. Or, rather, my collar did, ensuring that I wasn't going to recover the air I'd just lost.

It didn't hurt just yet, nothing but my head. I was too pumped with adrenaline, too busy planning my next move, to feel the pain so early.

My hands were grabbed and wrenched behind me sharply, straining my shoulder muscles. Fingers dug into my hair and jerked me upwards so that I was staring at Herald again. He was leaning in close, breath on my face. It smelled of peanuts.

"Now," he crooned, "it's not personal. I happen to owe a certain demon something. That sword could solve that, and I can trade you a new one that'll work just as well for the likes of you. I can take you to a healer, too, and get you patched up. I'm not trying to make this difficult. Just hand over the sword, and I promise, it'll be alright."

I was still choking, blood gathering in my mouth again. The world had faded several shades darker, an alarming difference. But I was too angry to care. "You… Bas…"

Before I could finish, something slapped across my face again. Another fist planted itself in my stomach – I hadn't worn a breastplate to training today, and now I really wished I had.

They were followed by two more blows in rapid succession, and I knew I had to act. No more of this. I wasn't entirely sure I could run, but I had to try. The shadows leapt into my hands eagerly. Their cool mist shot up me, refreshing, sharp, an entirely new taste gathering on my tongue. New energy surged through my veins.

Herald leapt back. "What-?!"

And I flung the shadows out behind me. The boys who held me let go and rushed back, yelling in shock or pain. I didn't waste any time getting to my feet and – tentative with shadow travel after the last time – sprinted down the hallway.

I didn't get far. I was still out of breath, the lack of oxygen very restricting. I was slower than them, than Michelle, than Herald and his other goons. I felt their weight land on me again, felt the pressure of the floor beneath me, my lungs screaming for air. I didn't dare shadow travel, because my head was still throbbing. I shot a few more shadows from my hands.

But it was pointless by now. It was too hard to concentrate when someone was slamming their fists into every bit of skin they could find on you, and then some.

The world had faded to darker shades again. I fought back with my nails, drawing blood. Or was it my own? I wasn't sure. There was just the pressure on my chest, the landing of blows. Something changed – the blows receded, maybe? – and I heard Herald speak. But it was fuzzy and distant and I couldn't make out words. It was too late; they'd stopped hitting, but I was too close…. To sleep….

Before I completely lost my senses, though, a light turned on. It was bright and burned and hurt my eyes. And it didn't turn off.

Then the pressure on my chest lessened. Then again. And again, the weight flying off. I gasped at the air, sweet air, its original taste prevailing through the metallic tang of blood.

Somewhere, there was a solid smack, and Herald cried out once. Then he fell silent. Footsteps vibrated in the floor beneath me – and that's when I knew, sensing them leave, that it was over.

But the sounds and sights and feelings had not gone. No, those would last for a while, and they'd get worse. "Bree?! Speak to me. Say something."

I spat blood out of my mouth – it was tainting the taste of my air – and rasped, "…Ssh. Loud."

"I _know _that, you idiot!" Hunter shouted practically in my ear, making me flinch. It didn't worsen the headache, but I still didn't like it. Loud noises went with hard things and hard collisions. I'd had too many of those in the past two minutes.

But now I felt her arms, on my shoulders, pulling me up. I forced open my eyes, blinking, wondering where the light had gone. It'd been her, I realized – and she held me now, gently peeling me off the ground. Something impossibly sweet, not air, something liquid, landed on my tongue.

Nectar. I gasped and turned towards it, reaching up with my hand, searching for the bottle. When I found it she let go and let me drink it myself. I wasn't in much pain, but I could feel the healing effects – my skin felt stronger, my body not so bent.

More footsteps, running closer this time. I looked around, scared they were coming back, but the hallway was empty save Hunter and I. Plus Ethan and Brook, who were running up, eyes wide.

Wait… almost. One of Brook's eyes was swollen shut.

I sucked in a sharp breath, seeing the black and blue swelling on her face. Immediately I saw more spots – one on her arm, a shallow cut across one shoulder.

They'd gotten her, too. Different place, different goons. Same time. Same leader.

"Herald," I gasped, staring in shock at Brook. It wasn't until then that the pains of my own body began to leak in – aches, aches everywhere, highlighted now and then with the hot whip of a cut. My head didn't get worse but everything else did, leaping into existence.

"Ssh. We know. We know," Hunter said, placing a hand on my face to calm me. "Easy. You think you can stand and walk back to the dorm?"

I stared at her, because I had no idea how to judge that. It just hurt, and my limbs were shaking. I don't know. Could one walk far enough like this? Probably. Could I? Did I want to put up with the pain movement would cause?

"Move." Ethan's voice, stern, the same one that'd told me to get to my feet. Hunter shifted to give him room. I felt him kneel beside me, felt his hand move gently across my forehead, ankles, then stomach. I shuddered at the small needles of pain.

He sighed and shook his head. "I don't care how you get her there. Just do it fast, and don't let anyone see. I'll talk to Kronos real quick and be there in a sec." His gaze met Hunter's. "Lie them down on the cots and get them some water. Wait for me to come back before you do anything else, unless you've got to stop bleeding from somewhere."

"Alright," Hunter said, pulling on my shoulders gently. I gasped as it jostled the fresh, painful bruises on my stomach. "…Thanks."

He got to his feet, shaking his head. "Not now. Just get them there. And Hunter? Be careful."

_***end***_

Nyx: The social game. Hehe.

Nic: Not really a cliffie.

Nyx: Wasn't meant to be.

Nic: Anyway, thanks for reading this week! Please review! Let us know what you think! Did you laugh? Cry? Get a sudden urge for a Ricola or stroganoff?

Nyx: And our poll is up on our profile page, at the top, if anyone's interested. See you next week!

Nic: Don't forget to brush your teeth!

Nyx: *suddenly suspicious* Did you do something to their toothpaste?

Nic: *stares at ground* No…

(think about this when you brush your teeth tonight.)

11


	20. The Greasers

DISCLAIMER: This is a fanfiction. Obvious, we do not own PJatO or HoO. That would be Rick Riordan.

oOo

We did what Ethan said, and if I was stubborn, (which I am), I would tell you it was because we thought it was a good idea and not because he'd told us to. But in reality, not only was it a good idea, but he'd told us he'd be there. He was planning to help, (as far as we could tell) and since he was the only one doing so, we listened.

The worst pain I had was on the left side of my ribcage. Movement seemed to set something inside it moving around, poking and prodding where it shouldn't. It made it hard to breathe. But I was positive it wasn't broken. Hunter took the majority of my weight on that side, Brook clinging to her shirt, and we made for dorm 333.

Hunter made us sit on our cots, which I was glad to do, propped up on the wall and the pillows. She handed us both a bottle of water and sat down between us, waiting.

I swallowed half the bottle gratefully. "…Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet," she snipped, golden eyes sharp like flint. "It seems I'm the one that got you into this."

"You're not," Brook argued.

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna be the one to get you out of it. I've got a plan."

Before we could ask what plan that was, the door opened, revealing Ethan. He stepped in quietly and in one smooth move, locked the door behind him. He breezed straight through to the small bathroom, where he washed his hands. I could see his fingers glistening through the open door. "Now," he said briskly, "exactly what happened?"

"I saw Bree leave and followed her," Brook said simply, wetting her hands and rubbing her wet palm across her cheek. She seemed to like the way it felt. "Two of them ambushed me from the first corner. I heard them, though, and was ready just in time."

"I thought I saw them running from you," Ethan muttered, drying his hands on his jeans and walking over to her. "Let me see your eye."

"And what do you know about healing?" Hunter asked suspiciously.

"Well, I'm no son of Apollo, but I've lived long enough to know what's life-threatening better than you do, and I'm the only one you've got. I guess you'll have to make do," Ethan told her as he examined Brook's eye. He might be quiet at times, but rarely had I seen someone take that tone with Hunter. I hadn't expected him to, either – he never spoke up in front of Kronos or other demigods. But like he had at breakfast, scolding Michelle, he'd spoken his mind. When it was just us, he didn't seem to have a problem with that.

Hunter's eyes narrowed, but she didn't say anything else.

"You'll be fine," Ethan told Brook. He stood up and walked over to me, then sat down on the dirty floor. "Alright, now what happened to you?"

Brook was, by any means, an extraordinary girl. Yet I was still ashamed to admit I'd been of less use than she had. "Michelle stole my bracers, so I went after her," I mumbled, rubbing my side. Speaking hurt. "Didn't see the guy that hit me – they were smart, got my head first. Made magic difficult."

"You weren't looking around corners before you went, were you?"

"No."

"I taught you better than that," he scolded softly but sternly.

"You didn't hear them, either?" Hunter asked, giving me a confused look.

"If Michelle stole her bracers and led her there," Ethan said, "then she probably made enough noise to disguise them as well." His hand reached up toward my head slowly, making sure to keep it in my sights. "May I…?"

I nodded, and he felt gently around my scalp where I'd been hit with who-knows-what. As he did, he kept speaking. "I told Kronos that you two weren't feeling well and asked if, given you weren't better by tomorrow, you could have a day's rest. He said it was fine, only if you really weren't well. He doesn't like the idea of missing training."

"Can I stay with them?" Hunter asked.

"No. He wouldn't pardon you, and Brook's well enough to come tomorrow. I don't like wasting time, either." He took his hands back carefully and said to me, "It's fine. You're not concussed or anything. Though I bet it hurt."

"Thank you, captain obvious," I muttered, too tired to show him my finger.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, shorty," Hunter snarled, waving a hand to cut him off. "Why'd you lie to Da- I mean, Kronos, about what really happened?"

Ethan shrugged. "It's not of his concern. Remember I haven't been here any longer than you have, but to everywhere I go, there seems to be one pattern; you pick on the new guy. This is no different than anywhere else, if not safer. Social squabbles aren't his to deal with. You ask him to interfere, he'll probably just stick you and Herald in a room and bet with Atlas on who'll come out alive. Not to mention, he won't be happy to learn that despite everything you're learning, you still lost." He sent me a glance.

"That's no fair!" Hunter growled. "It was five to one, even without Michelle!"

"That doesn't change the fact that we can't tell him," Ethan said in a hushed voice. "As far as Herald and the others…."

Brook sighed. "They wanted something from Hunter. They were hoping to talk to her directly, but when I showed up, they decided it wouldn't be bad to have a bargaining tool."

"Same," I mumbled around my slightly swollen lip. "They wanted my sword, too."

Ethan sighed, shaking his hanged head. "_Why _didn't you fight back?"

Why? What, did he really just ask that? "I tried. There were too many."

"Too many for magic to deal with? Or did you lose control of yourself in the panic and just wind up stumbling around like an idiot?"

I had nothing to say to that.

"Uh-huh. You have to keep your head in a fight. It's about time you three saw a real one. One you're _fighting_ in, not spying on. This is the norm, guys! This is how the economy works here. There's several Heralds out there, and they'll strike more than once each."

"What do you suggest we do, then, oh so very wise one?" Hunter asked, exasperated.

"Well, first off, you build a reputation. I'm just as new as you are, but do you see me getting caught up in this?" Silence. "No. Because everybody knows I'm the one who presented Kronos with his scythe. Everyone knows he has a preference for me. The sooner your parentage gets out, Hunter, the better for all three of you. And the sooner you learn not to get your butt kicked, Bree, the better off for you."

I wanted to point out that I had never lost a fight at school. Not among humans. Though now, that seemed kind of rigged.

"You have potential. Next time, don't let them catch you off guard. If they hit you in the head again, you'll be just as disorientated and get nowhere. When you're outnumbered, fists aren't going to win a battle, hardly even allow you to keep your sword. It's skill. If you'd heard, like Brook, you probably would've beat them instead. Not to mention scared them so badly they'd pee their pants."

"I got a plan for revenge," Hunter piped up.

"That's all great, but this is between Bree and Herald now. She's got a reputation to fix. If she doesn't, she's lost."

"I don't play this whole social game very well, guys," I rasped.

"You don't. You just have to play the kick-his-butt-and-make-sure-nobody-messes-with-you game. You've done it before, haven't you?"

I shut my mouth. He was right; I had.

"I don't care how powerful you are, what potential you have, or how much Ichor runs through your veins. You're new, and you're defenseless until you build those defenses. Maybe, just maybe, one day will come when you don't have to worry. But until then, it doesn't matter who you are; you're outnumbered. Get over it and do what you have to in order to survive. If you look like something people shouldn't mess with, then they won't mess with you. Nobody will be willing to form an alliance against you, because they'll be scared. So they'll come in groups of four and five, like they did tonight, and it'll be easy to handle. Just keep your mind open, and _don't let them get the advantage."_

"So you're sure there'll be a next time?" Hunter said dully.

"Positive. Your skill isn't lacking, I suppose – I could see Bree chasing them off in the state she's in now," Ethan told her. "I should teach you battle strategies next. That's your weak point here."

"We have a lot of weak points," Brook noted.

"You're new. That's normal."

"You're new."

"I'm new _here._ I've been a demigod since Dad died."

"Since what?"

"Since I was seven! Shut up!"

"Don't talk to her that way," Hunter growled, eyes darkening.

Ethan scowled, seeming quite happy to be quiet. He stood and made his way to the door.

"Thanks," Brook called as he went.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, as if surprised she'd spoken. His hand hesitated on the knob.

Hunter stood up and eyed him. "I'm assuming that's, 'You're welcome.' Why are you doing this, anyway?"

"Because if you get killed, I'm the one that'll die for it, remember?" he growled. He gestured sharply to me. "Look, she keeps rubbing at her side like something's wrong. I'll leave those certain areas to you. Bruises, be gentle with. Clean any cuts, then bandage them tightly. Make sure they sleep. Give them some nectar, too. If Bree's not ready for training tomorrow, I'll send Brook back with instructions for her about what she misses. If you suspect something's gone horribly wrong, go to either Kronos or me – tell him everything if you have to, just make sure you can find a child of Apollo. They usually have a few tricks up their sleeves. For a price, of course."

"And what dorm might I find you in?" Hunter muttered.

"Dorm 427. Don't worry about waking my roommate – I don't know his name, nor his parent for sure, but I'm pretty sure it's Hypnos. Kid sleeps like a rock." Then he vanished, slamming the door behind him.

"Well," Hunter muttered dryly, staring at the door with narrowed eyes. "Nice to see you, too."

oOo

I woke up sometime around noon the next day.

Hunter had, rather than waking and asking me if I'd like to go train, had taken Brook and left without giving me the choice. Though I wasn't wondering why – I hurt in more places than I could count. Getting up for the bathroom was painful enough.

She had left me a cinnamon roll from breakfast. It was cold now, but it was a frosted cinnamon roll, and whoever made it could freaking _cook._ So I did the natural thing – I ate it.

The real problem I had was my wounded pride. Ethan was right – I ought to be ashamed of what'd happened last night. And not showing up today despite that, to make it at least look like I was fine, was just as bad. Herald would be successful, at least to some degree, when I didn't make an appearance at breakfast.

I amused myself by designing more glyphs, taking special care as to not create the same one over and over again like I had before. However, for some reason, I found this harder. It didn't come as natural to me.

Hm. I reached over to my chest of things and drew out my old paper, with the repeated glyph, and brushed my fingers across them. Sure enough, on the white background, I saw a weak reflection of a deep, shimmering purple color. My eyes, apparently.

Weird.

Though, admittedly, not the weirdest thing so far.

As I continued to doodle, my thoughts wandered. Plotting about getting Herald back. I could think of several ways – my favorite so far was having Hunter and Brook act all sad, as if something'd gone horribly wrong, then show up as a shadow in his room and proclaim I was a dead ghost haunting him for arranging my death. Then, of course, throwing in a couple blows over his head before running out and screaming, "HA! FOOLED YOU!" as I sprinted out the door and down the hall.

Yes, I was liking that quite a lot. Around one thirty Brook came in with a sandwich. She handed it to me along with a small bottle of foundation. It was white, the same shade as my skin.

I raised an eyebrow. "Hm?"

"It's to hide the bruise on your face," Brook said, tapping her cheek where I (apparently) had a blossom of blue and black. "I healed a few of Brianna's scrapes for it, but didn't tell her why. Everybody thinks you're sick, just like Kronos."

I smiled at her. "Thanks."

"No problem. I can't stay long, though; Ethan wants me back soon. Oh, hey! More doodles of that glyph."

I almost choked, staring at the small corner I'd been doodling in (I refused to move my shoulder, which was another sore spot) and, sure enough, as soon as my thoughts had wandered, the first glyph had raised its head again.

"But… I was drawing something else…" I sputtered.

"I'll talk to Ethan about it again. It's got to mean something," she agreed. She was quiet for another minute before saying, "I'm not saying it's good to see someone hit you, but I'm kind of glad this happened. You and Hunter needed a common enemy to bring you two together again."

I grimaced. "Brook…"

"I know what you're going to say. That it's not me, and you're not trying to hate each other, but in reality you're not sure how long this'll last. I got it. Look, she asked me to tell you that she wants Michelle. She's got a plan for that. Herald's yours."

I closed my eyes, thinking about my plan of revenge. "…Alright. Give me until tonight to figure out a plan. I might need some extras playing in the background."

She nodded seriously. "Alright. Oh, and tomorrow's Friday – the day after that, you've got to train with Kronos. Ethan said to remind you about that."

That thought made me groan. "Ooooh, crap."

"Yeah, well you've got tomorrow to prepare. See you tonight." Then she left, locking the door and then shutting it gently behind her.

oOo

"Come on. Get up. We've hardly even started."

"It's been… Three hours!" I protested, breathless. My head was killing me. "Can I have a break?"

"No. You've got to be ready for Kronos tomorrow. You push yourself today, then you'll push yourself tomorrow. And you need to. He's going to notice that limp."

I scowled, coughing and forcing myself off the ground. The limp Ethan spoke of was not because of my leg – it was the hit to my side, which had indeed proved the worst. My other marks and bruises ached, worse than any fight I'd gotten into while at school, but that was definitely something else.

"I thought…. We were supposed to learn battle strategy," I rasped. "Teach me that."

Ethan narrowed his eyes. "I'd rather your priorities be on not getting killed tomorrow."

"Yeah, well, you said that my battle strategy was my weakest point, right? If we eliminate that, I'll look much better tomorrow. And we're still whacking each other with swords – it'll be enough to iron out the kinks," I told him, stretching my arms and ignoring the way they whined in protest.

He considered. "….Alright. Fine. Seems reasonable. Now, first; You should know what you're looking at. Learn to read an enemy. I've mentioned that before, and you do it, but not hard enough. Partly because you already know me. Partly because you never learned to look that deep." He set his feet apart and held up his sword. "Look at me."

I did, bracing myself and raising my short blade. It seemed to vibrate happily in my sweaty palms.

"Now," he said, "how do you know when I'm about to attack?"

"The beat. You always have a beat in your head. I can read the first one in your eyes, and time to the next one when you strike."

"Ah. Now how do you recognize Brook?"

"We've never-"

"HIII-YAA!"

I flinched back as a silver streak shot across the clearing and charged straight at me. Luckily, Brook moved around me, and didn't mercilessly throw me on the ground like Ethan had.

Ethan gave me a smug look. "And that, Ms. Achilles, is what got you beat two days ago."

"I didn't know she was there!"

"Exactly. First thing; be aware of everything around you. Second; read your enemy. That's what we're learning today. Now, close your eyes, and tell me what's behind you."

I did, concentrating, straining my ears. I knew there were some trees, then a marble wall. "I hear… Leaves rustling."

"How high up?"

"Um…. High up. Ten feet, maybe?"

"How many trees?"

I snapped open my eyes. "Dude."

"What?"

"How many trees? I don't know."

He sighed, exasperated. "Yes. I _know _that. I'm telling you to find out."

"How am I supposed to find out just by listening?"

He rolled his eye and closed it, pinching his nose. "Alright. Behind me, maybe two feet to my left and back five, is a small tree. A sapling, more like. Behind that is two other trees, and among them, shrubs. I can hear sounds echoing faintly off the marble behind, so they're pressed up against the wall. I can tell from warmth on my skin that the sun is over there, which means it's about ten in the morning. I can hear you breathing, maybe seven feet in front of me, and Brook two feet you your left." He opened his eyes. "There's a shadow over there, meaning somebody's walking by and watching us from inside the palace."

He was going to continue, but caught my gaze and cut himself off.

I was amazing. "How did you…?"

"Remember the Labyrinth? You have to listen and know your bearings down there. And you need to keep track of yourself in a fight. Be aware. Don't let anyone sneak up behind you. Think about how you avoid a weapon coming in from the side – you don't really see it, but you catch the light glinting off its surface and know to dodge." I nodded, showing I knew what he was talking about. "Same thing here, just a tad more abstract. Herald's goons aren't very good phantoms; I'm sure, if you slowed down and paid attention, you'd have heard him like Brook did."

I grumbled to myself about getting my bracers back, but nobody commented.

"When you fight Kronos," Ethan kept going, "he keeps you on your toes. I've seen him do it before. He approaches from different angles and at different speeds, though all fast, to give the impression that you're surrounded and there's no way out. Agreed?"

"Agreed," I said, remembering my several duels with the Titan. He was right.

"You see where strategy comes into all this? Particularly in your case – that short sword? It's not a knife, which requires the highest amount of cunning, but short enough that it gives you mobility. If you're creative enough. Can you tell me, if mobility is your biggest advantage, where the ideal place would be for you to stand in a fight?"

"Close to my opponent." I might be stupid, but I knew that much.

"Right. Your speed is another advantage. However, at far range, if you get surrounded…"

"…Then I'm done for," I finished flatly. I knew that all too well.

"That sounds about right. See, this is easy for you when you calm down and keep your head. You can do it when I'm fighting you – trust me, I can see it. You ran into the Battle of the Labyrinth, and to avoid getting killed you had to have some sort of sense on your shoulders. Adrenaline, or beginner's luck, maybe. But what happened two nights ago means that you haven't broken your nerve just yet."

Uh-oh. Red flags were waving everywhere. "And you suggest that I…?"

He gave me a smile that reminded me way too much of Hunter's. "I'm suggesting we find a good way to break it. And I know just the place."

oOo

Nyx: Hello, people! I apologize for being just two to three hours late today! I was up, I was ready, and I even fed my cat and sat down to type, and somehow I fell asleep.

Nic: You were up too late again. Two thirty? Really?

Nyx: I'm working on it! Anyway, the story.

Nic: Oh, right. The story.

Nyx: First of, the number 427 I stole from Assassin427. I appreciate all the reviews. Every time we ask for one, you give it, even if it's only to repeat what the last one says. Thank you so much for reading and being our only reviewer for a good handful of weeks.

Nic: Thanks to all out other fans, too! We hit the 500 viewer mark last night. Woot!

Nyx: I know you don't want to hear us talk and blabber, so onto the next chappie!


	21. Until Someone Looks Like Ethan

DISCLAIMER: Rick Riordan is responsible for the PJatO and HoO series, not us.

However, he is not responsible for the horrible movie and the questionable movie to come this August. You know why Nico's not in it when they've already brought Ethan? You know why they skipped him? Because they're terrified of what his fangirls will do when they see how badly he's screwed up. Gaea can raze Camp Half-Blood, blow up Camp Jupiter, or squash Olympus like a bug – but she has nothing on us di Angelo girls when we're angry.

oOo

"Today?" I asked nervously, watching the two demigods hack at each other from my wonderful view in the front row of spectators.

"Would you rather wait until _after _Kronos assesses you?" Ethan growled, raising an eyebrow.

"No," I mumbled at my shoes.

"Well, good. I signed you up next."

"What?! I thought it was supposed to be after lunch-"

"There's someone who wanted to go at you, and they replaced their sparring partner with your name. As soon as this is over, you're up."

"Was that smart, letting someone else pick her as an opponent?" Brook asked skeptically.

Ethan frowned. "On second thought, no, not really. You're smart."

"And you're supposed to be teaching _us _strategizing?"

"…Admittedly, it's never been one of my strengths."

"So what you said earlier really isn't what I'm supposed to do?!" I asked, on the verge of panic.

"Well, I know enough to _survive,_ which has to count for something. And I'm learning chess. That counts, right?"

"Are you crazy?!"

"Probably."

"Oh, for the love of the gods!" Which, apparently, wasn't much.

I turned to the fight in front of me, deciding that I better study while I waited. I tried to pick out each one's strategy, to guess their moves before they were made. They were two guys – one I knew by Nick, son of Nike, goddess of victory. The other was Allen, and nobody knew his parent.

Yes, I'm aware of how rigged that sounds.

As I watched, Allen, who had dirty blond hair, ducked swiftly under Nick's spear and quickly ducked in for a thrust with his own sword. He was fast, I noted. He hung back, dodged nimbly, and struck fast as a snake. He never stayed in one spot for long, making him hard to hit.

It seemed, however, that Nick was willing to wait him out. He was patient. He didn't jab too often at Allen, and when he did, he was careful to keep his guard up. He didn't leave many places for a snake to strike. However, he was too slow, and neither were really on their way to landing a hit.

This might take a while, I decided. That was fine by me.

"Allen's going to win," Brook said. "He's best at catching Nick off guard, not the other way around."

I watched carefully, considering that. She was right, I realized – while Nick kept his guard up, it didn't leave him much room to be creative with his attacks. Yet every way Allen moved was new to the eye – he was working up to something. Soon enough, this would be over.

"…I think you're right, Brook," Ethan said, nodding his agreement.

We settled down to watch the end.

Nick made his usual attack. This time, instead of a flat-out dodge, Allen slipped past the spearhead and moved in, too fast to be stopped.

He never reached his target.

Nick swung the spear around as fast as he could. The heavy shaft slammed into Allen, who wore almost no armor to suit his lightweight style, and sent him sprawling. He crumpled to the ground at the edge of the crowd, right in front of us, separated only by a thin, rusty chain-link fence. I flinched when the blow hit.

Then Nick was there, spear leveled under Allen's chin. "I believe," he said, "that I just won. Again."

Allen grumbled and stumbled to his feet. He was hunched over, massaging his side where the spear had hit. He got two feet, stumbled, and fell over, gasping like a landed fish.

Ethan and Brook stared in shock, completely still with perfect expressions of wide eyes and open mouths. Me, I was too, only I was starting to shake and breathing heavily.

My only thought was to never, ever, let Ethan sign me up for something again.

"Alright!" someone yelled as the gate opened, letting Nick and Allen out. Nobody stopped to help the latter, who was still staggering. As he passed us I saw him cough into his hand. The fingers came back red.

"This," Ethan muttered, a small smile twitching at his lips, "was a great idea."

Brook and I stared at him.

"Next! Come on!" called the announcer, whoever he was, waving towards the gate. "Who's next?"

"Not me," I said, hiding behind Ethan and Brook.

"Coward," Ethan snickered.

"I am not!" I yelled, smacking his head. "I'll show you who's a coward! Come here!" I then proceeded to beat him lightly with the side of my fists.

"Next!" the announcer yelled.

"That'd be me!"

I stiffened. I knew that voice…

"That'd be me!" the boy repeated, shoving through the crowd. His face was new to me – I hadn't focused on it much when we last met. It was his voice I recognized – the one that'd taken orders from Herald two days ago.

"Mac…" the announcer said, thinking. "Right. I remember you. Who was…?"

"New chick. The one in black over there."

The announcer turned to me, waving his hand and calling, "Hey, you! In the black! You're up!"

"Don't back out of it," Ethan hissed. "Do it."

"That's… That's…"

"One of Herald's goons? Do it, idiot! Or are you a coward?" And he shoved me forward.

I scowled at him over my shoulder, proudly showed him my finger, then continued to stalk towards the gate.

Mac smiled at me, teeth gleaming like poison. "You're limping. Want a head start?"

The gate closed behind me. I refused to flinch – instead, I grit my teeth and balled my fists. "No thank you."

"Hey, I know what you're thinking," Mac said as he drew his weapons – two short knives. Crap! Knives meant he was smart. And that meant I was toast. "That's business, sweetheart. Nothing personal."

Then what was this, I wondered?

"Don't call me sweetheart," I snapped, "unless you want yours cut out." My eraser felt nice and cool in my hands. It lengthened into the familiar blade as I backed up, putting space between us, focusing on his knives. How was I supposed to…

Then, all of a sudden, I was real grateful for Kronos's lessons on weapon handling.

Knives get in places before you could see them. Knives, at least the kind Mac held, were no good at far range. And they were easy to knock aside. They could not fully parry a sword, either, just evade and push away.

Now, if only I could remember that…

"You sure you know how to use that thing, sweetheart? It's a fine blade," Mac said, stalking to his left. I began to move to mine.

"Try me," I spat, praying he couldn't see the panic in my eyes and the sweat on my hands. I tightened my grip on the sword. It was comforting, having it there.

The ring, which was about fifty feet in diameter, was coated in dust and sand, hard-packed and easy to maneuver on. We began to move closer.

I had to get closer. My short sword was for close range…

And in a flash, he was there first. I hadn't seen him move. I grunted in surprise and moved to one side, narrowly missing the tip of his blade. As I swung around to put a little more distance between us and slice at him with my blade, his other hand flashed out, and I was stuck between the daggers.

Crap. I dropped to the ground, rolling under him and into his ankles, then leapt to my feet as fast as I could. But he rolled back onto the balls of his feet just as fast, knives raised, bouncing slightly to keep moving. It wasn't exactly Ethan's steady beat, but I saw it.

We began to circle one another again. The cheers and scowls of the crowd echoed around the training center. My heart was pounding in my chest. I watched, chanting to myself to keep my head, examining every little detail. The heat of that day had caused sweat to gather on Mac's forehead, but his grip on the knives was solid. As was his glare on me, taking in everything.

He reminded me slightly of a dog, the way his nose was shaped. And dogs smell fear.

I'm not sure what tipped me off – it could've been anything, from the twitch of the eye to the sudden tensing of his muscles – but I was ready when he next struck. I knocked one knife to the side, swerved around the other, and came at him with a back-hand. The flat side of my blade (we took safety measures, at least) passed through the solid air where he'd once stood.

And then he was on my other side, lunging with his knives. I'm not sure how he got there, but Kronos had pushed me faster before. Gritting my teeth and ignoring the gathering pains in my shoulder and side, swung my sword at him.

Crap. I'd forgotten to watch. The glint of bronze came near my face, and I flinched, narrowly dodging the flat side of his knife. He snarled audibly, frustrated. I danced out of range before he had the chance to strike again.

"Boo!" the crowd yelled. They wanted to see blood, not this pathetic dance.

Mac followed me, almost flat-out charging. Forcing me.

As I shoved his knives away once more, something lit up in the back of my mind. That word. Force.

Then I was busy knocking his knives to the side once more.

He pushed me back, gaining ground, until I was against the fence. He gave me that poison-coated smile once more, brandishing the knives. I was cornered. He had two knives – one on each side, ready to attack.

"You know better than this."

I jumped and yelled, not daring to take my eyes off Mac to see who'd spoken. I'd recognized the voice, anyway. "What are you doing?! I'm trying to concentrate!"

"You know your way out of this!" Ethan snapped. "Concentrate harder!"

Oh, I knew? I wish somebody would tell me how to remember. How to put it into action.

Mac, chuckling, dashed in real fast. I cringed back, what would've been a dodge if the wall wasn't behind me, holding my sword up.

But he was just feinting. He laughed as he drew back.

Dangit! I hated that! Being under his thumb. Forced to do whatever he wanted me to. All he had to do was lunge…

…..Oh. Duh. Man, I was so stupid.

Without warning, I leapt off the wall straight at him, swinging my sword around from the right. He was forced to dash my blade to the side, using two knives as one. Before he could move again, I swung from the left.

Be faster. Stay on top. Knives were easy to control, once you broke their control on you.

Because he had to use both to block my strokes, I was relatively safe so long I retaliated fast enough after each frantic parry. I realized, now, that the solution had been so simple.

That should've been what Ethan said, I thought. That the best solutions were the simple ones. He really was new at his job, wasn't he? I made a dim note to think of him more as a human, more as a peer, all while keeping a close eye on Mac.

I was the one gaining ground now. We reached the center of the arena. Mac was starting to panic, breathing hard, eyes darting around. I was going too fast for him. So of course I picked up the speed. Fancy moves weren't the trick here – rarely did I twirl or twist. Those took more time, and time I didn't have.

Mac looked positively bewildered now. He cried out in shock as one knife was ripped from his grasp and sent skidding across the dirt. But I remembered his blade on my wrists, still felt the hot acid in my ribs and shoulder and face and chest, all the places I'd been hit. Reprieve was out of the question. So I swung again, finding this time, his looks of confusion and pain were quite satisfying.

People were cheering now. Not for me, not for him – just for the entertainment. At the time, this didn't seem odd to me. It felt natural.

The burn in my muscles felt different, too. More like motivation, like power, not a hindrance. It pushed me onward.

Lost in the moment, I struck again.

Immediately, I felt something cold run across my arm, and Mac disappeared. I cursed and whirled around, sword raised, searching for him frantically. My last stroke had brought me just too close – into range.

There was a sound, something cutting through the air, and I whipped to my right just in time to strike his knife aside. But he was into it now; no more playing around.

He spun around, using the momentum of my block against me. I ducked and leapt up again to trust. He dodged nimbly and brought his knife down again. Parry, thrust, dodge, dodge, parry, parry, lunge… He was trying to force command over me again.

Competing for dominance, I scowled and lashed at him as often as I could. He only had one knife now; though he definitely knew how to use it, I reasoned that it should be easier than facing two.

I was right. He was fast, but slower with just the one. I stepped forward and grabbed his wrist, wrenching it to the side, and bringing my sword up to his chin with my other hand.

But he had one more trick to pull.

From the sleeve of his left hand slipped a third knife, and it struck my sword aside before I could declare myself the winner. His other knife whipped out of my grasp and came flying at me again. I was caught between the two, once more, too close to be saved by a drop and roll. Trapped.

He was aiming low, towards my stomach. So I followed my instincts, and I jumped.

Immediately I knew something was wrong. The earth rocked beneath my feet. It created a springy momentum I wasn't ready for – and I went flying twenty feet.

The ground rushed up to meet me real fast. I yelped and, at the very last moment remembering Ethan's instructions on how to fall, turned my shoulder to the dirt. The impact broke my rolling formation and sent me sprawling, rather painfully, through the dust.

Ow. Ow. That was_ not_ helping my bruises recover.

I was choking on the dirt, suffocated by it, coughing and spitting and squinting to get it out of my face. My eyes watered. Yet I got to my feet, sword drawn, ready for Mac to come at me again.

But he didn't. He was sprawled on the dust, too. He'd sat up and was rubbing his head, staring up at something in shock. It was then that I noticed that the crowd, too, had fallen eerily silent.

There, in the middle of the clearing, just popping out of the earth, stood a pillar of Stygian iron.

It was midnight black and angled slightly. It took me a minute to realize it was where I'd been standing – it had been what shot from the earth and pushed me so far. It was about my height. Mac, in the middle of attacking me, had run straight into it.

I just stared, shocked. I hadn't even been trying. I hadn't even noticed. Yet this…. This was serious. Like, Black Wall serious.

Then, muttering began. It came from the crowd, the audience. Glances were sent my way. People made the now-familiar gesture of three fingers clawed over their heart, jerking their hands outwards. A sign to ward off evil. Mutterings came in just brief excerpts, little words I knew they were scared of from their tones. _Black Wall…. Hades… Dark magic._

I tore my gaze from them and back to my column of Stygian iron. It stood there, proud, indifferent to the skepticism around it. Mac was scrambling backwards, dragging his knives with him, staring at the pillar with wide eyes. "Oh… Great gods…."

"That's a Black Wall!" someone yelled. "It's dark, evil magic! Nobody's used it in decades!"

Then the mutters exploded into conversation, buzzing talks that were loud and clouded together like conversations at lunch in the dining hall. I glanced at them, then the pillar, and then Mac, who was trying to help the announcer open the gate.

I stared at my pillar again, frowning. What was so evil about it? I couldn't name anything that'd felt wrong, or even different at all. It was no different than my shadows.

"Bree. Bree."

I turned, staring at Ethan, who was pressed against the wires and beckoning me over. I sheathed my sword and jogged over. "Listen to me," he hissed. "People here aren't going to like that. Put that column back in the ground, and let's get out of here."

I grimaced. "Why? How come people hate it?"

"There's a long and horrible history with children of Hades!" he whispered. "Put that thing back before people start thinking you're cursing them and planning assassinations!"

That seemed very stereotypical to me, too much like the emo label I'd gotten time and time again at school. Assumptions. Unfair ones. Only now, instead of the cutter, I was the bad guy.

I glanced at the pillar, then at Ethan. "Um…."

His gaze hardened. "Don't ask me! You're the one who put it there!"

"Not on purpose!"

"Well, then try your best. You can't leave that sitting there!"

"I'm trying! I'm trying!"

I sighed and closed my eyes, willing with all my might for the pillar to sink into the earth and disappear. When I opened my eyes, though, there stood.

"Ethan," Brook warned softly. "I don't know if anyone can get that down."

"She can," Ethan growled. "She has to."

Growling, I closed my eyes again, and focused on that frustrating pillar. The conversation of the crowd around me began to fade. Their accusing glances and pointing fingers vanished. I reached out, like I might for the shadows, feeling for the nice cool refreshment of magic.

I shuddered involuntarily. It felt like one massive shadow in front of me, much more solid than any other I'd seen before, full of immense power I wasn't sure I wanted to mess with.

But I had no choice. I sucked in a deep breath, fiddling with my mental grip on this thick shadow. It was slippery to hold on to. I thought about shadow travel, Shadow Form, Ethan's ideas of 'target practice.'

On instinct, my hand clenched into a fist. I brought it down to my side sharply, snarling, hating that pillar with all my might and wishing it would disappear.

And, quite simply, it did.

It slid back into the earth and vanished beneath the dust, as if it'd never been there in the first place.

"Good," Ethan grumbled. "Meet us at the gate. We'll head for our private clearing, alright?"

"Alright," I mumbled, staring at where the massive stone had been. I was still just a little shocked.

I had done it. I had replicated, sort of, the Black Wall.

I wasn't sure if I should be glad, grateful, or scared. It was power. It was promise. Yet it was what'd caused this palace to come crashing down. It was a gift, but a curse. What if they were right? What if it was, after all, evil magic…?

I shook my head vigorously to clear those thoughts and strode for the gate. No. That wall hardly felt different from the shadows. They were the same magic. And the son of Hecate would have told me if it was wrong. Just like he'd told Ethan.

He and Brook met me at the gate, holding it open and snapping at those who tried to close it on me. Then, together, we pushed through the crowd. Or, they did, anyway. Nobody seemed willing to touch me now. I was dangerous. I was a curse.

Strange, I thought. It was like being in school all over again.

School. I dimly wondered if I needed to know algebra after all. But Kronos or Ethan would have said something if I did – I was probably fine.

We dashed for the doors and beyond, our clearing. The whole while, I was aware of Mac's cold, scared gaze pinned on my back.

oOo

That evening, the conversations at dinner were quite animated.

Thank the gods, I was not the main topic of such talk. Though I heard it go around a few times – a new black wall. Someone that dangerous among us.

At one point, a strange demigod walked up to me and made a face. "Your kind shouldn't be welcome here," he'd warned. "You're not welcome among the Olympians or Titans. Go do your demented reanimation tricks somewhere else." And he left it there.

"They're scared of you," Ethan explained. "World War II was the last time we had children of Hades or Pluto. It was them versus the children of Zeus and Poseidon. A bloody war. Arguments on way of life. Like Hades himself, his children have always been isolated and quite different from the rest of us. They lost the war, and it was so bad all three of them agreed not to have any more children. Hence the broken oath surrounding your birth. And the rumors – nobody likes the reappearance of dark magic. The dead is where you belong. And not to mention, the son of Hades popping up out of nowhere… The crazed, powerful, dangerous kind of kid that they'd expect of your kind. And now they've been proven right, they're going to assume you're like him."

I frowned. There he was again. It was starting to bug me, knowing I had a brother that wanted to kill me but lacking his name. "How much do you know about him? His name, maybe?"

Ethan shook his head. "Nobody knows him. Nobody ever _sees _him. He plays around in his shadows and darkness. He hid in the Labyrinth for years. People say he went crazy down there. Most people in that maze do." He shuddered, remembering something unpleasant. "Most people say that it's the magic, though. It corrupts every one of you."

Every one of you. As if I was already a different species, different group, isolated. Though I favored solitude, this felt unfair.

"How do you know I'm like him, then? That's not fair."

"I know you're different. They don't. And as far as your situation goes here, I don' t think that's a bad thing."

Just then, we were interrupted by a bullhorn. Kronos was standing on the table, raising the machine above his head, and held it there until everyone fell quiet.

"Thank you," Kronos drawled in a low voice that carried. "Now, as far as announcements today, I only have one to make. It seems we have a unique demigod among our midst."

"Oh, gods. No, please don't say my name," I whispered, hiding behind my hair and trying to become invisible. Hey, it'd worked in school….

"I would like to officially introduce all of you – including any spies the Olympians may have on us right now – to my daughter, Hunter."

People snickered and leered at the comment of Olympian spies, but fell dead silent afterwards. I let out a sigh of relief – it was great not to be the center of attention. In fact, I thought I remembered him saying something about this…

"…Hunter?" Kronos asked, sounding confused. "Hunter, stand up. Show yourself. Daughter, where are you?"

Slowly, Hunter rose from her seat beside me and met the thousands of silent, blank stares. She had worn her favorite t-shirt today – a black one with "I joined the Dark Side; Where are the cookies?" written across it in white block letters – and her usual dark jeans. Her black boots thudded solidly on the wooden table as she climbed onto it. And, to my utter astonishment, threw her arms wide.

"THANK you, everybody, for your loving applause!" she yelled. "Love it! Got to love everyone's attention, you know, people staring at you like you're the eighth wonder of the world and every aspect of your life is their personal business, too. Great thing, fame is. You get so many followers. Like my friend Michelle down there – tried to feed my friends and I over to a couple of nameless demons. And slandered us with random insults like she knew a dang thing. Wonderful greeting to this lovely establishment, don't you think?

"Well, now, I'm done for now. Sorry to disappoint all my adoring fans, but you'll just have to soak up what awesomeness I already bestowed you. Until the next time somebody sticks their nose in my business, I bid you all goodbye!" And she leapt off the table, plopping back down in her seat with that same fake, wide, very drunk-looking smile.

Dead silence.

After a few awkward moments, Kronos spoke through his teeth. "Well, thank you… Hunter… for that lovely speech." His gaze turned to Michelle, golden eyes smoldering, a wide skull grin on his face. She slowly lowered her head and hid behind a Laistrygonian.

Hunter, Brook, and Ethan exchanged covert glances, struggling not to laugh.

oOo

Nyx: Alright! I love this chapter. Learning new things is interesting. I liked the knives thing.

Nic: It was… insightful, I guess. Not exactly the Battle of the Labyrinth.

Nyx: Yeah. I also love this chapter's name. A neat little break from the ones with deeper meanings, huh? Oh, that too – review if you can figure out why a chapter is named what it is. Most of them are abstract but apply to key points in that chapter. I'm wondering if I'm too vague in naming them.

Nic: As for the next official order of business…. Our poll. We closed it this morning. However, we only had one voter, and since you can pick two choices the tie was between Thalia and Luke. (Favorite PJatO/HoO character.) We may bring this poll back later when we have more viewers and potential voters.

Nyx: Our new poll is this; Which summary do you like better? I don't know how many of you noticed that I changed it last week. I'll have the old one up there in the poll, so you can read both. Whichever one wins, we're keeping.

Nic: And onto the next chappie!

Nyx: Chappie. Man, I say some weird things that rub off too fast…..


	22. Complications

DISCLAIMER: Rick Riordan owns PJatO and HoO, not us. Now I'm going to thank him for writing those as if he's actually reading this (though I can't realistically see him doing that.)

THANK YOU!

oOo

"What was that?!"

"What was what?" Hunter asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

I waved my arms in the air, because I thought it was overly obvious. "_That!_ With Kronos! _Why _would you do that?!"

Her gaze cleared, then was quickly guarded. "What? Announcing Michelle's betrayal out in public? What's so wrong about that?"

"One, it wasn't demons."

"I never said 'literal demons.'"

"Two, I can't believe you'd _use _him in this! He's not someone to mess with! For all we know, he could be a serial killer, and we've just handed her over to him with a slightly inaccurate account of events! _Nobody _deserves what that son of Hecate got, and if she ends up like that-"

"Kronos didn't do it," she shot back. "We can trust him, Bree. He's not going to do something horrible to her over us."

"You don't know that!"

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa!"_ Brook yelled, stepping between us. "Cool it, both of you!"

"Did you not just see her hand someone over to a murderer?" I demanded.

"He is not!"

"HEY!" Ethan yelled, banging his fist on the wall to get out attention. We all stopped short, staring at him with wide eyes. We had forgotten, the moment we were in our dorm, that he was still with us.

And he'd heard every word.

"_What _is going on here?" he demanded, eyes blazing.

"Nothing," Hunter said, waving him off. "Can you excuse us, please, because-"

"It is most certainly not nothing," Ethan growled. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on!"

"Then tomorrow your roommate is going to have a lot of questions about where you were all night," she retorted.

"Hunter," Brook warned. "We've already said too much, and too vaguely; if he gets the wrong idea and starts spreading it, we're screwed."

I threw my hands in the air. "Fine! Abandon the conversation like my point isn't worth listening to!"

"It is! We just can't discuss it in front of him!" Hunter yelled, jabbing a finger at Ethan.

He caught it in an iron grip, green eye furious. "You can and you will," he said in a low tone.

She jerked her hand back and rose to her full height, glaring up at him. "Make me."

"Hunter, he has a right to know," I pointed out. Partly because I knew my point wasn't useless. He had to see my side of this, and then she'd know that she'd read Kronos wrong. "He lives here, too."

"So?"

"So whoever lives in this palace may be next, no matter who did it."

"She's got a point," Ethan and Brook both said.

"Alright! Alright!" Hunter yelled, waving her hands to cut us off. "We'll include Ethan in this discussion! Happy?"

Nobody dared answer that.

Hunter glanced at Brook. "You explain. Bree and I have biased opinions."

Brook nodded seriously and quickly began to fill Ethan in on everything we'd hidden from him, from the body to the stain on Kronos's shirt to the different points between Hunter and I. Brook also felt the need to point out that the argument was stupid.

"It is not," I muttered. "Lives are on the line. This is life and death."

"That doesn't mean you have to bicker and hate one another," she retorted sharply.

Ethan cut us off with a sharp gesture. "Alright, calm down. Brook's right. It's worth a discussion – a _calm _one, not trying to rip each other's hair out, because that gets nobody nowhere. Understood? Sound fair?"

"Fair," Hunter grumbled, sitting on her cot.

"Fair," I echoed.

"Sounds alright to me," Brook said cheerfully, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Ethan sighed and sat down beside her, his long legs looking quite spider-like when they were bent. "Alright. Now, first, let's examine every bit of evidence. Starting with the body, since that's the most solid we have."

"Are you as good at this as you are strategizing?" I asked skeptically, mainly because I didn't want to think about that day.

"No. I'm much better at strategizing," he admitted.

"We're screwed," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"Well, we know that he'd been tortured," Hunter went on, ignoring that. "Cuts, bruises, and burns proved that."

"Tortured, then killed. By what?" Ethan prompted.

"It was hard to tell. It looked like blade marks."

"So we can eliminate most monsters," Brook piped up.

"Most," Hunter stressed.

Ethan nodded. "Guys, I remember Kronos telling me about this. He said to watch out for stray empousi. That's what he told you, right? It must've been one of them? It sounds right, too – I don't think he's lying."

Hunter, for once, resisted the urge to say _I told you so._

"What about the blood?" I asked. "That didn't add up in his story."

"Well, there could be a number of things to explain that," Brook said. "And things he has a right to lie about. Maybe he came across a spy or one of us who was wounded and did what he could? And as a matter of privacy kept silent about it? Or what you saw wasn't blood at all; it could've been a potion. Hecate's been making a lot of them lately."

I tried to find something to say to that, but I couldn't. Brook, you learn fast, is right just as often as Hunter is. Though she's right because she's right, and Hunter because you can't win an argument against her. I shook my head and racked my mind, searching for something, anything. I was too sure of Kronos's lie – if not his entire guilt – that I _knew _there had to be something my conscious was overlooking.

"The bag," I decided, though I was pretty sure that wasn't it. "Why would his bag be of any interest?"

"I'm sure it wasn't, not to the empousi," Ethan said. "They might've ripped it apart to upset him, or maybe thought he'd had something valuable inside. But the bag itself is useless to us and to them. Don't worry about it."

I narrowed my eyes. Not worrying about a detail is definitely not the same as analyzing it, like he'd ordered just a few minutes ago.

"…So," Hunter said. "What do we do?"

Ethan shrugged. "Look out for insane empousi, I guess. Listen to what he says. He's kept me alive so far, and that's enough for me."

"He's kept us alive, too, guys," Brook said.

I glared at her. "Whose side are you on?"

"I'm on theirs because I choose to be there and no other reason, so you might as well call it my side," Brook said firmly, nodding to herself, quite pleased with the statement.

Me, I was feeling more and more abandoned by the minute. "But… Surely, there's something…."

"Paranoia?" Hunter guessed.

I glared at her, my anger flaring up again. "No, not that! Something serious! Why is it so hard to have faith in me?"

"Hey," Ethan cut us off. "Now, none of that. We've already established that it won't get us anywhere."

"Unless the minority happens to be _right,"_ I pointed out sourly.

"Bree," Ethan said quietly, "Kronos isn't to blame. You have to get over that. I know you two have your differences, but this is not something you want to make false accusations about. You can trust Kronos. He is, after all, your grandfather."

Now, when somebody says 'grandfather,' Kronos is the last image that comes to mind. I thought of nice old guys with salt-and-pepper beards and warm smiles and crinkly eyes. Not a mysterious, violent, sadistic, unstable, blond college student.

"Unless any conflicting evidence comes up," Brook said slowly, "I think we can consider this case closed."

I shook my head. "No. No. Guys, you have to trust me on this. Something isn't right."

"Find evidence for it, then," Hunter said firmly. Maybe she was trying to be reassuring, maybe she was daring me, I don't know. "If you do, we'll look at everything again, alright? In the meantime, lay off the conspiracy theories. It's not going to help anyone."

I stared at her for some time, thinking, pondering. No. I listened to Hunter, I heard the words she said, but the feeling in my gut was that strong. So strong that I trusted it over her. I had never had a premonition so powerful before – maybe it was a demigod power, maybe it was a stroke of luck. But I _knew _something was shady here.

However, I also knew how foolish it was to widen the rift between us when there was no reason.

"Alright," I grumbled. "I'll cool down."

As I said that, I swore to myself that I'd find evidence, and that I'd find the truth. Witnesses, I knew. I'd search for other witnesses.

And hey… My father was Lord of the Dead. Perhaps I had the power to speak to ghosts, anyway.

All three of them released sighs of relief, even Ethan. "Alright. Glad that's settled," he said, and picked himself off the ground. "You guys get some sleep. You two have Kronos to deal with tomorrow, and you, Brook, are going to use magic."

"Arrow magic?" she asked, suddenly so excited she couldn't keep still.

Her reaction caused Ethan's lips to twitch. It occurred to me then that I hadn't ever seen him smile. "Yes. On your arrows. Goodnight." And he shut the door firmly behind him.

oOo

As soon as the door was closed, Ethan sagged against it. His heart was pounding.

Had it worked? Had his lie been convincing? Probably. But it was hard to read Bree's face – there was no telling.

_Should I warn Kronos?_ The thought had crossed his mind more than once. He knew he should – especially seeing as it was Bree, whom he had big plans for, who was onto something.

He let out a long breath and pushed off the door. He would go to Kronos. Except…

It wasn't just Bree. It was Ethan's responsibility. It was the kid Ethan was supposed to be watching, the one he had to make sure was obedient enough to follow orders and not ask questions, just like any other soldier. If Kronos found out that she suspected….

Ethan shook his head vigorously. But he had to know, for sake of keeping it secret.

He scowled and tightened his fingers on his sword's hilt. He didn't like this. Not one bit.

By the time he made it back to his dorm, though, he had reached a decision. He wouldn't say anything. Not until she found more evidence. And he knew very well that Bree wasn't going to find anything.

"Hey," his nameless roommate said as he walked in.

"Hey," Ethan said back. This was the most conversation they'd ever had, and only started this two weeks ago. Ethan didn't even know the kid's name. He suspected that it might be Gabe, but he wasn't interested enough to ask.

He went straight through the dorm and into the bathroom, flicking on the light and closing the door. Once he was sure it was shut, he took of his eye patch and looked in the mirror.

His face had not changed in a long while. The last of the scarring had faded to its current shade ages ago. But, now and then, the old wound still hurt. Badly. Like his mother was still driving that knife into his nonexistent eye. Those were usually times of importance. Like when Kronos's monsters had found him roaming in the Labyrinth. Or when he'd presented Kronos with his scythe.

Or now, of course. Now, it hurt more than ever.

oOo

That night, I dreamed again.

What I saw, of course, I made no sense of. It was about as pointless as the last one.

There was a raven. A pretty bird, black feathers shining brightly. It liked to spread its wings. For the wind? For the glorious look of the feathers? I wasn't sure. He – I was positive it was male – picked his way across a field of bones, shrouded by mist. Somewhere in the distance, there was a river running. But the roar of water was faint, and the bird headed away from it.

I followed the bird.

My footsteps were nonexistent. The bones did not crunch beneath my feet. Yet as the raven hopped from surface to surface, his nails clicked on the white skeletons, and they shifted under his weight.

Several times, he looked around him, into the mist, at things I couldn't see. He wasn't in this world, I realized – he was in a forest, maybe, or a plain. Or a mountain. Or a desert, though I'm not sure what a river would be doing there. I only saw him. Him, and the plain of bones he hopped across.

His wings flapped out again as he jumped, but he did not take flight. I longed to see that happen – for his wings and feathers to stretch to their full extent, to catch the wind, to soar. Yet I wasn't entirely sure he would enjoy it that much.

We jumped around the bones for hours. I followed him, wondering the mist would clear to reveal his world, or if he was leading me somewhere. Now and then he would glance over his shoulder. To check if I was following, maybe?

But he only made eye contact once, at the very end. When he did, his beady eyes turned cold and deadly. His feathers fluffed up, and a very un-raven-like growl pierced the heavy silence. He took a threatening step closer.

I stared at him, admiring the feathers.

Then he shrieked, a furious caw, and lunged at me with talons bared.

I jolted awake, yelling and twisting around on my cot, searching for where the bird had landed. Then I saw my chest of things, Hunter's questioning glare from across the room, and Brook's little hands on my arm. The dorm, right. I was safe from nightmares now. I must've woken them, though they didn't seem to mind.

"What does a raven stand for?" I asked when they wanted to know what I'd seen.

Hunter shrugged. "I don't know. But I've always thought they were pretty."

oOo

My sores from the fight with Herald and Gang were fading.

None of them ever approached me again. I got a lot of dirty looks from Herald, but from that day on, they were always interlaced with fear. He had meddled with something he didn't know about, and now he did know more, and he was scared of what I might do. I saw it. Several times I made a point to follow him and appear around corners, just to freak him out. He always started, made a face, and quickly went in the other direction. It was small pay for what they'd done, but I was enjoying it nonetheless. Slowly getting my money back. With interest, of course.

Kronos noticed my new reputation, too. "Very neat trick with the Stygian iron," he approved. "Oh, and I noticed your fighting skills are better. You seem much more on your toes. Have you tried signing up for the duels in the courtyard?"

I kept searching for that witness. Other demigods and such. I didn't dare try to talk to my slain friend on my own – nor did I want to summon a ghost at all. Besides, there was no one here to show me how.

Later that Saturday, at the end of dinner, Kronos was listening to another demigod speak. He nodded his head, eyes focused on a faraway place, concentrating. At last he said, "Thank you. You may go."

"What was that about?" I asked casually.

"Our spies at Camp Half-Blood report that there is a dream stalker among them. The Olympian half-bloods are puzzled as to who it is, but since many demigods walk while they dream, there is little they can do but shut their minds tighter. They failed to notice, however, whose mind was invaded by this mysterious dreamer."

The raven.

"And the enemy thinks it's one of us stalking them in our dreams?" I asked for clarification.

"Yes. I have given orders for several of my best dream-walkers to learn what information they can, but they all swear they were not caught. They never have been before. Tad of a mystery, here."

"…Yeah…" I said.

"Have you discovered dreams, Bree?"

"What? Oh, no. I've been sick lately, though – I sleep heavier when I'm ill."

Lying, as I've said before, is very easy for me.

"Well, get better soon. I have a feeling we'll need all our soldiers when the time comes."

I didn't ask what time he was waiting for.

oOo

A few more weeks passed without event. We continued to learn battle strategies and everything else we could cram. Ethan kept us busy with work, and Kronos liked to pile on extra things.

People still wouldn't come near me. They were scared. I got a lot of dirty looks. Many of them wished that I'd leave entirely. Though I'm pretty sure they were afraid to say so, because they didn't want me as an enemy.

Hunter got similar treatment. She just liked to torment her spectators.

"Hey, you, there! With the bug eyes! Got something else to stare at?" she'd yell.

My birthday was the next big thing, at the beginning of August. Ethan, Hunter, and Brook had all gathered together to surprise me. That party consisted of brownies from the kitchen, poorly sung birthday songs, and as a present from all three, a small bottle of potion.

"It's a prank bottle," Ethan explained to me. "People dare each other to try them. They're guaranteed harmless and free of permanent effect, though you never really know what they'll do. I'd save it for a time when you wouldn't mind being a rat for two months straight."

As if that was any time in my life.

Even Kronos wished me a happy birthday. A brief word. That was it. Hunter must've told him.

I continued to search for my witness. I found none.

Two weeks or so after my birthday, Hunter was playing with her scythe, turning it into random things. "It'd be cool if all our weapons did this. You know, change forms."

Then, flashing across my vision in a dark purple light, was a familiar symbol.

I frowned, glancing behind me. But there was no projector to create the image. "…Did you see that?"

"See what?"

"The glyph. The one I repeat all the time. It just showed up across your face and that wall behind you."

"…When, exactly?" Brook asked, raising an eyebrow.

"When Hunter mentioned weapons changing forms. Look! There it is again!"

"Your eyes flashed purple," Hunter noted.

"I know! Hunter, give me one of your stumps. You know, the ones you use to smear charcoal across paper. And your lighter."

So we lit the edge of the stump and, recreating what we'd seen our Hecate friend do, drew the glyph across my shirt.

Nothing happened. It made more of a burn hole than a glyph, though you could still see its original design.

"Shucks," Hunter said. "Nothing. Guess your glyph doesn't work."

"But it should!" I said. "That must be what it is – it must mean shape shifting! I don't know why it didn't work…"

She just shrugged. "You can't even use glyphs, remember?"

My shoulders slumped. "Yeah…"

That night, I tore up the pieces of my glyph papers, all of them, and tossed them in the trash. A waste of time, I thought as I climbed into bed, doing so many designs. Or replicating just the one. It got me nowhere – I even already had the thing memorized, so there was no point in any of it. Especially if the glyph didn't work.

I fell asleep faster than normal. At long last, I dreamed once more. And to my delight, I saw the raven again.

It stood on a featureless plain – usual dream static, I guess – next to a black horse. It stood still this time, didn't hop around, and kept its wings folded. They seemed to be having a conversation, thought I heard no sound from either. Between them bloomed a bright silver flower. It glowed softly with an eerie light. They paid it no attention, though I'm positive they saw it there.

The next day, Ethan never showed up for training.

oOo

Nyx; Ooooh! Random cliffy!

Nic: Darn you! What'd you do to Ethan?! You didn't tell me this part of the new editing!

Nyx: No. No, I did not.

Nic: I hate you!

Nyx: I love you, too.

Nic: Ach! I'm going to the dark side to get some cookies. Have fun watching me eat them in envy.

Nyx: No, I'll be fine. I got some Ricolas to keep me going.

Nic: *narrows eyes and grumbles* I still hate you.

Nyx: Alright, then. As far as this chapter… If you can tell what Bree's dreams mean, review! Tell us. I want to see if I'm too vague, or if you can tell. Let us know what you think!

Nic: Nobody has really asked us any questions or pointed out flaws in our reviews yet. We encourage you to do so; if you give us one asking questions, we'll answer you in next week's post. As far as constructive criticism, we love it! We're all here to become better authors, right? Help us out! We read every bit of feedback we get. And we appreciate each one.

Nyx: And for those of you who care (a lot of people in my town don't,) Happy Singles Awareness Day!

Nic: You wrote a poem for your cat, didn't you?"

Nyx: I did, and I'm rather proud of it. I even got it to rhyme. Yet somehow I doubt he read it….


	23. Hide and Stick

(Rather unnecessary by this point) DISCLAIMER: Rick Riordan is the author of PJatO. I continue to post this even now because I love his work that much, and because I have no intent of selling him short, or to steal his work. Let that be clear.

BEFORE YOU READ, ask yourself this question; Does Kronos wear boxers or briefs?

You wanna hear the answer?

oOo

"You sure?" Brook asked skeptically, carefully aiming her bow at the target. The other demigods paid us no mind. A few I saw weren't glancing at me, but at her, more specifically her bow. She was well-known as a great archer now.

"Positive," I said. "Why, you think he'd approve of standing around like idiots and being totally unproductive?"

"Well… No," she agreed, and released the string. The arrow embedded itself solidly in the target, straight in the center.

I turned to the practice dummy and began rehearsing some newer moves I'd been taught. These were more complicated and closely interwoven with mental strategies. As I did, I also practiced keeping my mind open – staying calm, detached, almost. It left room for easy observations and clear not-quite-thinking, more of instinct, subconscious movement. I had learned it, like many things, quickly once Ethan and I established clearer communication.

He hadn't shown up at breakfast, where we usually meet before heading off to training. Brook and I had decided to practice our usual individual exercises, because it couldn't hurt. Though I wished he'd hurry up and get here, because I was eager to learn something new.

And to ask him what he knew about ravens.

Lunch rolled around faster than I expected. Ethan wasn't there, either. Maybe he was sick. I dimly wondered if demigods got sick, because I couldn't really remember being ill beyond a cold at all in my past. I also knew that, if he was going to be absent, he had to clear it with Kronos first. And Kronos would've gotten us a substitute. Ethan wasn't one to skip rules like that, especially when they directly involved Kronos.

"I have a new activity we can try out this afternoon," I whispered to Brook.

She glanced at me. "Hm?"

"Hide and seek. We're going to look for him."

She frowned and set her fork down. "Can we do that?"

"Well, is he telling us not to?"

"No…"

"The last kid that was absent, I found dead," I reminded her. "I don't care how unfriendly he gets; I'm going to look for him. You coming?"

"I didn't say I wasn't."

Hunter glanced at us out of the corner of her eye. "Don't get caught by that empousi. I'd join you, but Kronos would notice if I didn't come to training."

So, that's how I ended up back in that dreaded hallway.

I kept Brook close, refusing to let go of her hand no matter how loudly she protested, holding her in place at my back. "Ssh," I told her. "What if someone unfriendly hears us?" She snapped her mouth shut but continued to twist my wrist in ways it shouldn't.

I sighed and took my hand away, peering around the corner slowly. I had learned that lesson the day Herald and his friends jumped us. But the corridor was empty; there wasn't a sound aside from the wind blowing through the halls. I nodded, satisfied that my prediction had been right, and moved down along the wall, Brook on my heels.

As we moved deeper and deeper into the back of the palace, the urge to hum _Mission: Impossible _began to fade. Memories crept back into my mind. Despite the vacancy, something here felt alive in the air, an eerie entity that said we were being watched.

"This is it," I whispered. The words, though barely there, seemed as loud as a demonic shriek. The silence around us, that entity, put a thick pressure on every movement and noise. "This is the hallway. Over there is the door…"

"Check this side," Brook hissed. "I'll get the others."

The rooms looked very much like the one we'd been in with Kronos. Concrete things, poorly illuminated, random shades of stone tainting the walls. The stains, I now knew, were whispers of dark things happening here.

A bad feeling was creeping from my mind and stomach and into my bloodstream. Why would an empousi need several rooms?

Unless, of course, these were just training rooms and those were accidents.

The same room that I'd found the son of Hecate in was on my side. I glanced in it briefly; there wasn't a new stain, wasn't a scrap of cloth from his bag, much less a body. No trace. As if he'd never been there. As if he'd never existed.

I met Brook at the end of the corridor. She shook her head. "Where else should we check?"

We thought about that for a minute. My mind was still on the son of Hecate, and… The dream I'd had that night…

"Are there any gardens in this palace?" I asked her.

Brook nodded. "The biggest one is just down the mountain from Atlas's courtyard. It's the one that Hercules had to get through to reach him? The one with the golden apple tree? Garden of the Hesperides, I think it's called. And the dragon's name is Ladon."

I choked, so shocked I forgot where we were. "There's a _dragon _here?!"

"Yes! Ssh!"

"We've been here for two months, and I was never told this?"

"I thought you knew! You and Hunter loved to tell me bedtime stories about Atlas and Hercules, remember?"

I did remember that. I had just never quite registered that that'd meant there was a garden and dragon _here._ In real life. Down the Mountain of Despair.

"Anyway, why do you want a garden?" Brook asked.

"I saw one. In that dream I had the day before I found that kid dead. I think he came across the garden. I heard the dragon in front of him – but it was a threat from behind that attacked."

"One of the Hesperides, maybe?"

"No. It sounded like Kronos, but I'm not supposed to say that anymore, remember?"

"Fair enough. Forget him – we have reason enough to check there, I guess, if we're assuming he's gotten himself stuck in the same fate as the Hecate kid."

Don't ask me why we continued to call the twenty-one-year-old guy 'kid.' We still had no name for him, and he hadn't treated us anything like all the adults of our past had. He'd treated us as peers, as equals. Therefore, we called him 'the Hecate kid.'

"Lead the way," I told Brook, glad to leave this corridor.

As we went, once we were far enough to feel safe speaking again, I continued to ask questions. "Isn't it the only entrance and exit to this castle, aside from suicidal cliffs and teleportation?"

"It is. And from what I recall, only passable at sunset. Which, due to passing the solstice, is just a tad later now than it was the day the Hecate kid went missing, but growing earlier and earlier. It won't come until, maybe, just after dinner."

"So it's pointless to check now?" I asked, disgruntled.

"Not necessarily," she said. "Though yes, it'd probably be more productive later."

"Then let's do some exploring now and check the Garden after dinner. We haven't explored all of the Black Wall's ruins yet, have we?"

"No, I guess not," she agreed. So we headed for the Black Wall.

I was still fascinated by it. Due to its Stygian properties, nobody had dared touch it to take it down. It would stay there for ages and ages, a bold reminder of the Olympian's hate. And, of course, of this brother of mine that everyone had finally stopped talking about.

"Have you ever considered taking that down?" Brook asked as we poked around the far ends of the ruins, picking our way among the marble mess.

"No."

"It might make Kronos like you. I know you feel threatened by him. Ethan does, too. If you're scared, just get on his good side. I don't think he's really a bad guy." She was tentative, though; she knew I would disagree.

I sighed heavily. "I still find him suspicious, though I'm honestly trying not to. Either way, I guess you're right." I offered a small, awkward smile. "It's probably best to be on his good side."

oOo

Unfortunately, we were just a little too late getting out of dinner to make it to the Garden before sunset. Why, you ask?

Hunter.

I wasn't sure if I should be angry. I felt annoyed that she'd kept us from our plans, and more so because she insisted on messing with Kronos of all people, but underneath all that I was struggling hard not to laugh. Not to be proud. Not to feel that rush of sisterhood welling up inside me. She was Hunter; right then, _anybody _would have had problems convincing me that she could be changed, by her father or anyone else.

Some of the demigods milled around the table; this was – since training was spent, well, training – the best time for social interactions and trade. The monsters had gone (well, most of them) and people stood and walked around, talking, conversation bubbling in the air.

Kronos, however, remained sitting.

Hunter and Brook were bribing Brianna into trying the bottle of prank potion she hadn't meant to let us know she had. I tore my gaze from them, searching for Ethan, because at that point we weren't late yet. We had a few minutes. That was when, of course, Kronos caught my eye.

He motioned with his hand for me to come closer.

Since ignoring him was suicide, I hurried over, casting two glances over my shoulder as I went; one at my sisters, and one at the door, for they both served as clocks. "Yes, my lord?"

He lowered his head, golden eyes bright and darting around nervously. "I have a problem."

"…My lord? What are you asking of me?" Kronos, talking me about his problems? …!

His eyes met mine and, to my utter shock – I had to rethink the entire universe that night, and sleep evaded me for two more – they were filled with terror and complete helplessness. "I am stuck."

"…Stuck, blondie…?"

He scowled at that name, though I'm pretty sure he didn't know what it meant. His voice was a hissed whisper. "Yes, stuck! Keep your voice down!"

"I don't understand."

"You idiot! There was glue on my chair, and now I'm stuck!"

I choked. "What?!"

"Sssh! You heard me!"

"Why can't you just do some magic trick and get out of it?"

"It is magic glue, you dimwit! It's not that simple! Strength does not help me here, and should I use magic, I fear to blow up the entire chair. Which would also destroy my clothes."

"Okay, okay, sorry I asked! Please don't use magic!"

He glared at me. "You say a _word _about this to anyone-"

"I won't," I said, wishing I had a video camera.

"Good. Now, how do I get out of this? Do you know?"

"Well, for one thing, you could just take off your pants. You know, that would mean you still have _something _on, as opposed to burning your clothes-"

"_I can't do that!_ I am Kronos, Lord of Time! I refuse to do that when there are people here to see! I'm the most feared being in the world!"

"Well, it's that, or let them see you hobbling around with a massive chair stuck to your butt. Look, you asked me for help, and that's what I got."

"I hate you. I wouldn't even _ask _you if I had another option!"

"If you're desperate enough to ask me, you're desperate enough to risk public humiliation. Just warp time and run out of here real fast before someone sees you."

"That would leave evidence! My pants would still be here!"

"Do I look like I care? Does it look like you have a choice?"

"I can't leave my pants here!"

"Yes you can. I hope you got something on underneath."

"I do, you idiot, but that doesn't mean I can just leave my pants here stuck to this chair for everyone to see!"

"You know what? I woke up this morning and thought to myself, 'I should have a conversation with Uncle Kronos about his pants today.' Totally expected and nonrandom. Now, you can keep your head and do what I said, or you can sit here all night until everyone is gone."

"We're holding a war meeting here tonight! I need my supplies from my room."

"I could go get them, then, if-"

"No! You are forbidden to go in there!"

I gave him an exasperated look. "This doesn't have to be so complicated, genius."

"No, it doesn't! Tell me what to do!"

"I don't know how to solve your stupid pants problem! Just get out of here before someone else notices your face is red as centaur blood."

He scowled at me, then glanced across the room. "Get Brook."

"Heck no. Child of Artemis, remember? You want to talk to her about your _pants?"_

"Get her _now!"_

I sighed and signaled Brook while Hunter wasn't looking. She nodded and darted over. "Lord Kronos?"

He sighed. "Does your poison trick work with magic glue?"

She shook her head. "No. I spent hours trying that after Hunter glued a picture of Justin Bieber on Ethan's eye patch. It comes off with a trigger word from the person who placed it, and nothing else. Why, did someone glue your butt to the chair?"

"And my arms!" he cried, pulling frantically on his sleeves.

"Well, in that case, you'll have to take off your pants and your shirt and bolt out of here before someone sees."

"I can't do that! They'll see my things here and know I'm running around in boxers!"

She threw her hands in the air. "Okay, OKAY! I'm not having this conversation! Maybe you can ask whoever put the glue there to remove it."

"I can't do that, either. If I asked, she'd leave me here all night," Kronos grumbled.

"Well, then, you'll have to go streaking. Bye." She turned and walked off before he could disturb her mental state further. He glared after her, silent.

"So," I prompted, "you still forbid me from going into your room?"

His gaze landed on mine, sharp and hot like smothering coals. "Yes. Now, as soon as I'm gone, I want you to demolish this chair and the clothes stuck to it. Do it before someone sees, or else I will make your life a living Tartarus."

"Wait, what?"

"JUST DO IT!"

oOo

That is, I can confirm, to this day, one of the weirdest conversations I have ever had.

And my life has gone nowhere but down from there, I can promise you.

Though I'll admit I liked blowing the chair to ashes. I got a bunch of weird looks, some terrified, and a ton of those ward-off-evil signs. But Kronos got out of there in the blink of an eye. I was glad – I had no wish to see the man in boxers.

At breakfast, all I had to show for the night before was red, sleepless eyes and a poor sketch (I'm not an artist, merely an anime fan) of Ethan with a raven on his shoulder. I didn't really have much else on my mind. At least, not anything pleasant to think about.

As we dug into our food, a boy with tousled, rich brown hair sat down across from us in Ethan's seat. We stared at him in curiosity, more attention than we paid most others, because his blue eyes were focused right on us. "Hey, you three."

"Us three," Hunter said evenly, setting her spoon down. "The ones you just robbed of a peaceful breakfast. What do you want?"

"Have you seen my roommate? I don't know his name… He has an eye patch, on his left side. I've seen him hanging with you guys before. Do you know where he is?"

"Why do you want him?" The first question out of Hunter's mouth, full of her suspicion and my own. You never, ever hand over someone's name and location while on Mount Othrys, not unless you're sure the person you're talking to can be trusted.

"He borrowed a small bag from me recently, and I want it back. I've been meaning to ask him about it – I wouldn't dream of hurting the kid – but he hasn't shown up at the dorm the past two nights."

I choked. "What?"

"It's like he vanished. The morning before last, he took the bag. Never came back that night. And yesterday and all last night, he was absent."

Alarms were going off in my head. A bag. A missing boy. This seemed all too familiar.

"His name is Ethan," Hunter said, leaning back on her stool. "No, we haven't seen him. Sorry. Though I'm sure he's not avoiding you just to keep a bag. He doesn't have much to carry, if you haven't noticed. Just his sword."

The boy nodded and cast his gaze to the floor, all too aware that he was speaking to Kronos's daughter. "Okay. Thanks." And he was gone.

We glanced at each other with wide eyes, filled with worry now that we were alone and without witnesses.

"I don't think he's ill," Brook murmured, glancing at his empty seat.

Something hard had lodged itself in my throat. Ethan hadn't ever discussed much with us aside from formalities and training, and only looked out for us because we were his responsibility. Yet I couldn't stand the horrible ideas that flashed through my mind right then. A number of things – murdered like the Hecate kid, eaten by a demon, jumped by other demigods and left for dead in some long-forgotten corridor on the castle's fringes. He didn't deserve that.

I didn't touch my food at breakfast. Which probably wasn't wise, as it was Saturday, and I was to train with Hunter and Kronos.

We were working mainly with magic that day. I still had sword and weapon practices drilled into me, but our main focus as far as new things was the arcane arts.

"Have you learned anything else?" Kronos asked me. "Ethan mentioned something about boiling blood?"

"Oh, yeah," I said, though I didn't dare try it on him. "I think it's supposed to be used for some sort of ceremony. I did some research about Ancient Greek customs involving the dead. They used animal blood as an offering to rise spirits from the Underworld to talk with them. Though if I focus really hard, I can mess with a living person's blood temperature."

"That is very interesting," he said, studying me with sharp eyes. I did my best to scratch the frantic image of him glued to the chair out of my mind. It wasn't hard, given the look he had me pinned under now.

"It's tiring, though," I rushed in, staring at the floor.

"Look up when you speak, girl. Staring at the ground shows lack of self-confidence, and that will be the death of you." I looked up obediently. "Now, anything else?"

"No, my lord."

"What is that? On your shirt?"

I glanced at my shoulder, where he was pointing. A familiar burn mark was scorched into the threads, torn wider and without the define shape it'd started with. "Oh, that. I tried to burn a glyph into my shirt there. It didn't work."

"You were playing with glyphs?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Yes," I said.

Hunter nodded her agreement. "She keeps drawing this one without meaning to, in different sizes and reflected and turned, but it's the same one. She swore she saw it one day, too, kind of like a projection. She thinks it's for shape shifting."

As soon as the words left her lips, the glyph flashed weakly in the background. "See?" she told her father. "Her eyes flashed purple."

Kronos studied me curiously. "Is it one you commonly see?"

I shook my head. "No. Hunter asked Hecate if she'd seen it, but she hadn't."

"And you burned it into your shirt?"

"Is that not what you're supposed to do?"

"Well, if you have enough magic to work glyphs, that would be _Underworld _magic," he muttered, rolling his eyes at my stupidity. "Linens boost general magic, especially wool. If that's the case, then, it stands to reason that for Underworld magic you would carve a glyph into…"

"…Stygian iron! Holy frik, you're a genius!"

He frowned. "Holy what?"

"Do you have a spike of Stygian iron I can use?" I asked, drawing my blade.

"Here," Hunter said, passing me her scythe. It had changed into a pencil-like rod of Stygian iron with Celestial bronze ringing the edges were my fingers would touch.

"Thanks," I said, and pressed the tip to the base of my blade.

It took an hour. I sat down on the ground and worked, hardly blinking, letting instinct guide my hands. It felt natural. Even as I carved, without either of them speaking, the glyph flashed across my vision again. Something began to hum and buzz in my chest, vibrating, not quite breathing, but… alive. A powerful force balling up and concentrating in that one spot.

The Stygian iron pencil, with Celestial bronze to back it, did not wear out. I never needed to sharpen it (which was good, seeing as Hunter needed it.) By the time the glyph was done, it was deeply engraved, with perfect lines. They were mainly straight, but curved just a bit. Sometimes the line thickness varied. But the glyph was pleasing to the eye. It sparked a feeling in me that I hadn't ever felt before.

"Does it work?" Kronos asked, sounding rather bored.

I handed Hunter's scythe back absently, staring at my sword with wide eyes. I held it up in front of me in a daze. "Dagger," I told it firmly.

And, before my eyes, the blade began to shrink and writhe. It grew heavier in my hand, then lighter, as the metal silently twisted and bent upon itself. Then at last it stopped.

In my hands, sure enough, was a short, wicked, Stygian iron dagger.

oOo

Nyx: I bet you woke up this morning and said the same thing Bree did, no?

Nic: Yes. Yes I did.

Nyx: Thank you, reviewers! You're very encouraging. Blunt, but encouraging!

Nic: Alright, let them read the next chapter, Nyx.

Nyx: Killjoy. Oooh, and I got up in time! YAY!


	24. Secrets

DISCLAIMER: Rick Riordan owns PJatO and HoO. Not us. (As if you didn't know.)

oOo

Kronos gave me a knowing smile. "Told you so."

I glanced at Hunter. "How many phrases, exactly, have you taught him?"

"I don't know. You missed our discussion on Yolo Wednesday."

"Ahem," Kronos cleared his throat, narrowing his eyes at her. "The glyph?"

"Oh, right!" I said, jumping to my feet and displaying the dagger. "It works."

"Turn it back."

I frowned at the dagger, wondering if I said 'sword' if it'd go back to its original form, or if it'd go to a simpler design, and I had just lost my perfect little blade for good. "Sword."

It morphed back into its original shape; sharp, short, and deadly.

Kronos nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now we can incorporate that into your fighting style."

"Hm?"

"Like changing forms to parry or strike or even shield something. Hunter, let's give her a demonstration…."

And that, my friends, is how that day was spent.

At lunch, Hunter and I were both talking so fast it took Brook ages to decipher our words and get the news. "Your sword… what?"

"The glyph was for Underworld magic, so it works on Stygian iron! It works on my sword!"

"Let me see it, then!"

I grabbed my sword and told it once more, "Dagger."

The glyph flashed a dull, grayish purple color and the metal bent once more into the shape of a jagged knife.

"That is so cool," Brook murmured, looking very tempted to touch the weapon.

"Yeah," I said, turning it back into an eraser and slipping it into my pocket.

That was, however, the only conversation. The empty chair across from us promised bad things if we spoke further.

The afternoon we spent continuing to fight. I learned new moves and began to incorporate the shape shifting into the way I moved, balanced, and worked. I also worked on, once more, keeping my mind calm and open. It helped greatly while adjusting to the changes with my sword. I found myself falling back onto a beat – that beat varied each time, and I wasn't near as solid or balanced as Ethan (I moved far too much and too quickly in my style for that) but it was definitely there.

I noticed, after a while, that these beats were not my own. They matched familiar drum beats, guitar chords, and captivating lyrics.

It had been so long since I listened to music.

Not like this was the first time I'd thought of this – I had thought of it constantly. I had even tried (yikes) to sing to myself before. This was as close to music as I got nowadays – these deadly dances to a beat only I could hear. Yet moving to this beat, dancing, enforced it in my mind, body, and… something deeper. One might call it a soul. I wasn't sure what my name for it would be.

We were in the middle of one fight detailing _Prayer of the Refugee_ by Rise Against when Kronos stepped back, shaking his head vigorously as if he were a wet dog. "You're doing well. Keep up the practice. I know you usually go back to your dorms after dinner, but I want you to meet me here again. Just for a short while. Alright?"

I nodded. "Okay. I mean, yes, my lord."

He grumbled something unintelligible, sheathed his scythe, and led the way to the dining hall.

Halfway there, he broke the silence. "Have either of you seen Nakamura recently?"

"No," I admitted. "He's been absent for two days now, and his roommate says one night before that."

Kronos sighed. "He was supposed to be back yesterday evening."

Shock sprung to life inside of me, perking up my senses. Every drop of my attention was focused on him. "You sent him somewhere?"

"Yes. I told him I'd get a substitute to teach you, but I didn't have the time for it, nor did I really think I'd have a problem with you and Brook. I'll find you a new teacher by tomorrow morning."

My stomach clenched. "Where did…?"

"That's none of your business. He was to stay close, actually, so close in fact, we can assume he's dead rather than late. Pity. I worked hard on that one."

I swallowed thickly and turned my gaze away, unable to say a word. Hunter glared at the hallway in front of us. Her gaze was unreadable.

The most eventful thing at dinner was watching Kronos wipe his seat thoroughly before sitting in it. Brook asked us what was wrong, and Hunter explained quietly to her what we'd learned, but no one spoke after that.

As the demigods and monsters dispersed, Kronos called Hunter to his side. He began to talk to her and lead her away, out the doors. I followed. But he split down a corridor not leading to the open space where we trained. I started to follow him there, too, but he waved me off and told me to go back to the usual place and wait.

They took their time coming back. I glanced up at the sky. It was a dark, blood-red color. Sunset.

I glanced around, seeing nobody though the pillars. Just the green torchlight. I was pretty far from the Garden, but if I shadow traveled, I could be there and back before anyone saw I was gone….

But I couldn't. I shook my head vigorously. If I went down there, the Hesperides would see me, and I wasn't sure if they'd tell on me to Kronos. Shadow Form, then…

Ach! I shook my head. I felt like I was being watched here. Should I risk it, or…?

The sunset had not yet ended. I sat there, pondering for a good few minutes, wondering if it was worth the risk.

Ha. Worth the risk. Eventually I scowled at myself and got up. I had to check. Ethan's life was on the line, and whether he liked us or not, we were the only ones who'd care if he died, even if it only because meant an unwanted change in teachers. I strode across the room, aiming for the shadows-

And at that moment, Kronos and Hunter reappeared. I cursed and abandoned it.

In this low light, the shadows across Hunter's face looked wrong and out of shape. Kronos's nose was sharply outlined by the green torches. "Now," he said. "Where were we?"

oOo

We couldn't have been sparring for long, but darkness had fallen by the time he dismissed us. Hunter and I sheathed our weapons and trudged to the corridor that'd lead us to the Black Wall ruins, then to our dorm. To my surprise I saw Brook waiting for us, leaning against a pillar, as if she'd watched the whole thing.

"How'd it go?" she asked as we walked.

"Fine," I said, "though I missed the sunset."

"So did I," she admitted. "Hunter? You alright?"

"Fine," she said curtly, but her tone was relaxed enough. Tired, probably.

We spent the walk in silence, enjoying one another's company. Hunter felt conflicted about something, I could tell, but she didn't voice it. We left her to her thoughts – if it were important, she would tell us. Besides, I'm sure her mind was on the same lost boy as ours.

The broken slabs of marble slid under our feet as we made our way across the rugged, slanted field of destruction left behind by the Black Wall, its dark shape blotting out some of the stars. You could see them clearly from up here. They were pretty.

Just then, Brook's hand flashed out, so sharply I ran into her arm. She held her finger to her lips and looked around, eyes glinting in the starlight. She'd heard something.

Immediately, Hunter and I froze, and began to scan our surroundings. The sound came again – it was obvious, actually, now that our own footsteps weren't masking it. Marble sliding on marble, sometimes clashing against itself.

My heart sped up, and my mind opened, broad as a still pond. My response to anything was no longer flight; always fight. My fingers twitched, feeling the shadows. They were so much thicker at night….

Movement. My eyes locked on it, zeroing in on a target. It was a person, with thin shoulders, staggering and scrambling for balance among the shattered marble just down the hill. The silhouette was fuzzy and hard to see under the starlight, visible only when they moved, hunched over and moving slowly. Hunter narrowed her eyes at them. Then they took a step forward, letting the starlight fall at a new angle, highlighting their face just barely.

"_It's Ethan!" _ I gasped, and sprinted down the hill. "_Styx!_ Ethan!"

The marble slid and fell away beneath my feet, clattering against other shattered pieces. I slid with them, crouching, moving down the hill as fast as I could. Hunter overtook me quickly, and on my other side, Brook shot past us both like a bullet. She wasn't more balanced than we were – she was just faster in general.

I picked my way across the ruins, leaping around and using their momentum to carry me faster. I could see him more clearly now – he staggered, his left shoulder clutched tightly in his right hand, hunched over like an old man. His long legs shook dangerously. Before we got there, he slipped on the marble again. Unable to maintain balance, he fell onto the stones and lay there, alarmingly still.

Hunter cursed and ran faster, then slid to a stop beside him. Brook was already there, unclipping his sword belt and pulling it away. I kicked myself mentally for being so slow. Fast in general, slow in comparison. Right then, it was just slow.

"Ethan?" Hunter asked as I knelt beside them, shaking his right shoulder gently. He groaned and raised shaking hands to fight her off.

"It's us," I told him, helping Brook untie the small pack from where it hung from his waist. "Just us, Ethan. It's okay."

His hands fell limp again and he stared up at Hunter, dark eye glazed and pained. She was unclipping her canister of nectar from a belt loop and clawing at the lid.

I leaned forward, curious. My hand landed in something warm. I flinched and drew my hand back – blood, pooled and dripping across the marble. It glistened ominously in the faint white starlight. My gaze gravitated to where it also coated his shoulder, soaked into the white shirt, trailing across his chest and throat. My jaw tightened.

"He's hurt," Brook pointed out helpfully.

"I see that," Hunter snapped, holding the bottle of nectar to his lips. She didn't let him take even half a dose before pulling it back. He swallowed thickly.

"Ethan?" I asked. "…What happened?"

"Not now," Hunter hissed under her breath while he mumbled something I couldn't make out. "Let's get him out of here and look at the cut first. Here, help me get him on his feet. Ethan? You hear that? We need you to stand."

He groaned but grit his teeth and complied, pushing himself to his knees with her help. His hair was wet and stringy with oil, sweat, and blood. It was hard to tell the shade of his skin in this light, but when I grabbed his good arm to help him stand I felt fever laced throughout.

Hunter and I swapped sides quickly, putting the taller support on his good side. Then, Brook on our heels carrying his things, we made our way uphill. He managed to hold some of his own weight, but his shoulders and head sagged between us, his breath coming in heavy rasps.

"Where to?" I asked, careful to test the marble in front of me before putting our weight on it. "His dorm? Kronos?"

"Our dorm. It's closest," Hunter and Brook said at once. Well, don't that make me feel special.

The half-conscious Ethan mumbled something incoherently, shaking like mad.

We went as fast as we dared up the hill, into the corridor, and down the halls to our dorm. Brook ran ahead and unlocked it for us, then began to set out supplies: a wet rag from the bathroom, bandages, and a few random herbs she had picked and that I had no name for.

Hunter and I made him lie down on the nearest cot – Hunter's – while Brook closed and locked the door firmly behind us. I, under her orders, put my fingers to his wrist and counted his pulse. Hunter drew a knife and cut away the top left corner of his shirt, revealing the wound beneath.

Brook knelt down beside us, eyes wide. "Told you there was a dragon, Bree."

"I believe you," I said. "One-sixty beats a minute. Is that bad?"

"Too fast, I think," Hunter said as she wiped the blood clean. "Ethan? Is this the only cut?"

"It's not a cut, it's a bite," Brook argued.

Ethan muttered something again, dark eye wide open and staring blankly at the ceiling. Brook flicked on the light, which made him flinch, and sat down again. Oh, yeah – that was definitely a bite mark. Little needle-like teeth had left prints in his shoulder. It didn't look terribly deep, which probably saved the tendons and majority of muscle. However, the skin around it had turned a nasty green-grey color that didn't look, for all I'd seen so far in this world, anything like human.

His lips moved again, and this time, I almost caught what he said. I heard the syllables, at least, just couldn't piece together the word.

"Ladon is poisonous, right?" I asked, using the dragon's name.

"Yes. …Crap, what do we do?" Her voice rose slightly.

"Calm down," Hunter told her. "You can extract poison, right?"

"I've never done it on this scale before!"

"Well, now's a heck of a great time to learn," Hunter muttered.

Brook was a strong girl, I knew very well, but I saw panic slowly invading her gaze. Then she squeezed her eyes shut, shook her head, and swallowed her thoughts. She laid her shaking hands on his shoulder and began to murmur in Ancient Greek, little whispers that went up my spine like chills, red lips moving swiftly. Her fingers began to glow silver.

Ethan's breathing slowed and his eyelid drooped, then slowly closed. He had stopped trying to speak.

"Vial," Brook hissed through her incantation. Hunter got up and shuffled through her supplies for one.

"Keep going," I coaxed my little sister, trying to convince myself Ethan's reaction was a good one. The jerk was too familiar to die on us now. "Don't stop."

Slowly, the green tint began to vanish from the edges of the circular, plate-sized ring of holes and retreated to where I couldn't see. Then, slowly, like tiny metal beads flowing towards a magnet, a thin green liquid began to stream from the bite and lift into midair above Brook's hand.

Hunter held the vial in place, catching it easily.

After five minutes Brook sighed and quit casting whatever awesome spell that had been. The trickle of poison had (visibly) ended thirty seconds before. She looked tired, but otherwise okay. "That's all of it. I managed to heal some of the damage it did, but not everything, and definitely not the wound. I don't know how to do anything else."

"You did just fine, honey," Hunter crooned, giving her a hug. "You look exhausted. Go over there and lie down, alright? Get some sleep."

Brook glanced at Ethan but complied, curling up on her cot, brown curls streaming out behind her. The sight, despite the circumstance, made me smile.

Hunter looked at me. "How bad to you think-"

Just then, Ethan gasped, eye flying open and blinking rapidly. He coughed and even choked just once, and he had started to shake again, but after a moment his breaths became deep and even. His eye was distant but somehow moving, like a camera lens changing focus and trying to find the right spot. There was a moment of tense silence before he rasped, "…Where the hell…?"

Hunter sighed and popped the lid off the nectar again. "Dorm 333, sleeping beauty. Feeling better?"

"Fine," he gasped through gritted teeth. I rolled my eyes.

"Liar," Hunter muttered as she gave him the bottle again. "Drink."

I turned away from them and, knowing from Ethan's lessons, began to roll out and prepare a bandage. The gauze felt soft on my fingertips. I was tempted to stretch and play with it – yay ADHD – but resisted temptation best I could. So I only stretched out one piece, of course, and didn't use it for the bandage.

"Here," I said, passing it to Hunter when I was finished. She began to wrap it around his shoulder. He flinched, using the shaking fingers on his right hand to stop her.

She scowled. "Move."

"No. …Leave me alone."

"Don't tell me what to do!" she snapped, twisting his wrist in an unnatural way. He cried out and yanked it out of her grasp.

I stared, not all that surprised. Injured or not, you don't get _sympathy _from Hunter.

That's not to say I approved. Well, I did, but you get my point. Mainly I was just happy I didn't have to be worried anymore.

As she secured the bandages in place – they stained red a bit, but not much – she asked, "So what was this quest Kronos sent you on?"

Ethan had given up resisting and leaned back against the pillows, eye closed. "…No."

"No?"

"No."

"Well, then. I'll pretend that made sense." She jerked the bandage, making him flinch again.

"Easy," I said, stifling laughter. She wouldn't actually hurt him, I knew.

Well, not intentionally.

oOo

I woke up the next morning on time, as I usually did, much unlike I had when in school. Since all this started, I'd found that I was a morning person. Like, five-hours-before-the-butt-crack-of-dawn type of morning person. And a stay-up-late person. If it weren't for the necessity of being awake during daylight, I'd have called myself nocturnal.

Hunter slept on my cot beside me, sprawled wide. I had fallen into the floor – she had this habit we called 'the helicopter' – and I looked around, wondering why she'd retreated from her own bunk.

There. Ethan still lay on it, sound asleep. The bandage on his shoulder was still white as snow, save the small spec of red in its center. The memories came rushing back; I shuddered, shaking them off, and got to my feet to prepare for the day.

Hunter and Brook woke soon after. We were passing around the hairbrush when Ethan finally came around – I don't think he'd slept in a long while – and started to curse. "What the…!"

"Dorm 333," Hunter reminded him in a bored tone. "Ladon decided he wanted a chew toy last night."

He lifted his head to stare at us, shocked. "…Why am I here?"

"Because we took you here. Need I explain the Law of Inertia?" I don't think she could've, not really, but it sounded like it made sense, so she said it. I'd have done the same in her place.

Instead of scowling, he looked genuinely confused. "But… I don't…"

She smirked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Dude. Chill. It's alright."

He looked around nervously, eye sharp, as if he didn't trust the walls and floor. Then he closed his eye and sighed, "What time is it?"

"Five forty-seven in the morning," Hunter provided. She wore no watch; she never needed one. "We're supposed to show up at breakfast soon."

His eye snapped open. "What?!"

"Five forty-seven. Why?"

"I slept that long?!"

"Yes. You were tired. Why, did you have something more important to do? Dying, perhaps?"

"I only… I thought it was a few hours…" he mumbled, using his good arm to push himself to a sitting position. "I was supposed to report to Kronos when I got back-"

"It's okay. He'll understand," Brook said. "He has to, as a matter of fact, seeing as he's using that dragon and its poison as his security. It'll make him look bad if he doesn't."

Political backup. I hate politics.

Ethan grimaced and rubbed his shoulder. The shirt was still stained with blood, but it was brownish maroon now and didn't look as alarming as it had the night before. "I guess. I don't want to stick around once he finds out, though. ….Hey, I don't want to let you think I owe you anything after you ran off to the Battle of the Labyrinth, but…"

"I'm sorry, but what?" Hunter asked, amusement lighting her tone. I bit my tongue, though in reality I was shocked. "Maybe…."

He grit his teeth and closed his eyes, cursing us under his breath for making it difficult. "Fine, I'll say it. _Thank. Y-"_

At that exact moment, the door blew in. A deafening _**crack!**_ cut him off as the wood splintered. We all yelped and flinched back onto our feet, weapons drawn, in defense stances and minds cleared, ready for a fight. Save Ethan, who just pressed against the wall and turned his back to the explosion, covering his head and neck best he could with one arm.

To our utter astonishment, a white sneaker poked through where the door had once stood.

We watched as the foot disappeared and Kronos leapt into the room, bouncing on the balls of his feet, scythe drawn. "_What _is going on here?!" he demanded.

Life is so monotonous without surprises, isn't it?

"…Dad…?" Hunter asked, frowning. "What…?"

"I saw a couple drops of blood here and there along the corridors. They led here," he said flatly. "You were unharmed when we departed last night, and I feared-"

He cut off abruptly, golden eyes falling on Ethan. They brightened, almost lighting fire. "_What,"_ he demanded, "is he doing here?"

Hunter seemed to know he wasn't talking about Ethan's missing report. I bit my tongue while she threw her arms wide and yelled, "It's not what it looks like!"

Ethan frowned. "What?"

Kronos glared at Hunter. "Do we need to have a _talk,_ daughter?"

"Nope! No! Nope, not at all! He was here for medical purposes only! NOTHING else!"

"What…?" Ethan asked. Then his face turned red. "Oh."

oOo

Nic: Yeah. "Oh."

Nyx: I couldn't resist that, I'm sorry.

Nic: Tee-hee. Kronos. Giving a speech about the birds and the bees.

Nyx: That does make me smile. Anyway, the chapter.

Nic: Yeah. You're pushing the limits I gave you.

Nyx: I know what I'm doing. Chillax.

Nic: I wish I could say I didn't believe you.

Nyx: *sticks tongue out* Yeah, well, on anything else you_ could_ say that. Trust me, I'm giving this story everything. It'll be amazing when it's done. So keep reading, guys!

Nic: Speaking of reading, our poll is still up. No one voted. This one is just on the summary – we need help figuring out which one's better. The poll is at the top of our profile, so if you decide to go ahead and vote, thanks a ton!

Nyx: From us both! Now, the next chapter is one of my favorites….


	25. Gambles

DISCLAIMER: We do not own PJatO. Rick Riordan does. As well as HoO.

oOo

Ethan did his best to ignore the clamor of the crowd, picking through his eggs with the fork in his right hand, left arm pressed tightly against him in an effort to protect it and even shield it if necessary. His shoulder burned, but he didn't dare say that.

He sighed and sat the fork down, for despite his hunger, the inability to sit still was stronger. His eye wandered around the room. He turned his whole head to see what was to the left of him. Then Kronos's sharp golden eye caught his, and he looked away quickly and began to pick at his eggs again.

"So? You gonna tell us what that quest was about?" Hunter asked, stabbing her sausage contently.

He had a dim memory of her asking that last night. "No."

She scowled. Hunter, it seemed, did not like being told that. "Give us a hint, then?"

"Okay. I failed." On purpose. "I wasn't fast enough to get it done before my time limit ran out."

"You ran over your twenty-four hour limit," Brook reminded him.

Ethan grimaced. He hated that damn garden. "Not that limit."

"I bet the quest was very brave," Brianna murmured. Ethan sighed. If you saw the bright side of things, great. Good for you. Go get high on your illusions, and time will kill you fast enough. If you didn't, however, it got very annoying to hear everyone else say it five times over.

"What limit?" Hunter asked, right on topic, golden eyes boring into him.

Ethan tried not to flinch under their pressure, hot as iron. "A different limit. Shut up and eat."

He couldn't tell them. They were already too close.

Though yet again, something in the back of his mind kept insisting. _You owe them._

He scowled angrily and stabbed at his eggs. He most certainly did not. He'd saved their sorry butts back when they'd ran off to China. And he'd trained them how to fight – if it weren't for him, Bree and Brook would be dead. He owed them _nothing._ He hadn't even consciously agreed to let them help him upon returning last night – he'd been semiconscious and only capable of simple thoughts. Like, _Oh, it's them. They haven't hurt me before; I can trust them._

Ach. One false thought that led to another. He couldn't trust them, not really, and he knew it. Trust got you stabbed in the back. Or in the eye.

Though still, the voice persisted. _Okay, even if the sense of trust was false, you still owe them. They might've saved your life last night._

As far as Ethan was concerned, that made them even. Nothing more. He refused to admit a debt. Except to Kronos, maybe. He shuddered – you listened to Kronos. No matter what. You just did.

Ethan didn't want his life saved. He didn't want a debt owed. They should've asked him first.

_That hadn't been an option. They risked their own safety, out so late at night when the monsters hunt, and your anger at them to help you. They used their own supplies of bandages and nectar. That's not easy to get a hold of around here._

"Shut up," Ethan muttered to the small voice. No one commented.

There hadn't been reason behind their actions, anyway. Lack of reason was insanity. And he didn't owe an insane person – or a sane person over an insane action – anything. End of story.

He couldn't quite wrap his mind around what happened. Why would they do it, anyway? Deplete their own supplies? Wasn't that as bad as owing a debt yourself? They each had two sisters to look out for – why bother with him, an outsider, a stranger? It wasn't smart. People died for helping strangers, or from seeking their aid.

He'd have to give them a lesson on stupidity today, he decided.

oOo

"What do you know about ravens?"

Ethan started at the question. Off all the strange things Bree asked, though not the most outlandish, this had been the most random. "What?"

"Ravens. Black birds. More elegant than crows."

He thought about that for a minute. "…Aren't crows and ravens the same thing?"

"I don't know. What do you think?"

"Well, I don't know that, but I know they're both carrion feeders. Off the dead."

"Anything about myths?" she insisted, parrying his strike without a blink, eyes trained on his and totally focused on the conversation. He frowned. She was evading him almost subconsciously now. Not a good sign for him. He blamed it on his burning shoulder.

"No, although I'm sure if you ask around you'll find one," he said flatly, moving his sword faster and putting weight behind it at the last second, a cunning strategy he'd learned in the Labyrinth. "Why?"

She glanced down – there! He stepped past her guard. But in the blink of an eye, she was four feet back, sword drawn and pointed despite the distant look in her eyes. "A… It's stupid."

"It probably is, but since I put up with your usual idiocy, I see no reason for you not to tell me."

"Well… I had a dream. Two, actually."

Ethan froze, hardly noticing her fling his sword aside. She saw he wasn't fighting back and stopped, too, frowning. "…What?" she asked.

"Demigod dreams aren't something to play around with. What did you see?"

"Um… It kind of just walked around. I saw bones, but I don't think that's where the raven was."

"Both times?"

"No. The second time, it was talking to a horse about a silver flower. I know, stupid, right?"

"Not stupid, _dangerous!"_ he snapped. How many times did he have to repeat himself? "Did you hear anything it said?!"

"No! ….It attacked me once, I think…."

"It attacked you?! It saw you?!"

"Yes. I wasn't exactly stealthy. Bones tend to crunch when you step on them."

"Don't you get it?! It could be another demigod!"

She frowned. "One that turns into a raven?"

"No! Ach, let me think…" He sat down on a bench, mulling over his tactics for explaining things. He had methods now, he'd been working with them for so long. She sat down next to him as he finally found the words. "Look, I told you that I tried to look for my mom in my sleep? The first day we met?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, demigod minds wander when we rest. I tried to direct mine, and I failed. It's usually a random, subconscious thing. But it looks into places you're not at, sometimes even the past, if you need to see it. Rarely, even the future. Since you saw this raven twice, and not in specific scenes but just doing random things, I think you're subconsciously spying on someone."

She blinked, looking kind of shocked. "Who? Why would I want to?"

"Well, the raven is the key to that. Find out who's related to a raven somehow. Once you figure out who the raven is, then you'll probably know why you're stalking them. Simple. The horse, too, maybe."

She didn't look very satisfied. "…Well, who do you think?"

"I don't know. Somebody that eats dead things?"

"So, all carnivores and omnivores. Maybe a demon. Great."

Ethan shrugged. "Someone relevant, now. Don't get too wild."

"Nobody's really that relevant that I can't meet in real life," she muttered.

"Percy Jackson? Would that not seem relevant?"

She was staring at Brook, distracted, watching the younger girl split her own arrows in half with each other against the target. "…I guess, technically."

Then, rather unexpectedly, Brook's target blew up. The blast of heat wasn't too welcome. People nearby yelped and jumped out of the way, hairs singed and one with his pants on fire.

"Yes!" Brook yelled, pumping her fist in the air. "Explosives spell!"

Bree paled. "NOBODY tell Hunter!"

oOo

That night, I called dibbs on the bathroom and was the first in there to change into my pajamas. As I pulled on the tank top I wore to bed, my elbow knocked against something hard and knocked it onto the floor. I cringed and waited for a shatter or the pinch of glass shards in my feet, but there was none.

I bent down and picked up what it was. My bottle of foundation. The one I hadn't used since the incident with Herald. Huh. Wonder why it was on the counter.

Despite my longing to see it again, the raven did not walk in my dreams that night.

Days went by. Weeks. Nobody I asked knew anything about ravens. Or evil empousi. Ethan was hiding something about his quest, and that resulted in a lot of cold silences between us. But we still trained without much of a hitch. His shoulder healed fine, though I knew that it seemed to take forever to him, because between the bad arm and missing eye, his left side felt rather undefended.

One day, I was searching through the rooms again. The ones in that corridor. I found fresh blood stains in one, still wet but sticky and on their way to drying. It made my skin crawl. The thick scent gathered in my throat like a ball of wet wool. But that was it; no body, no torn clothing, no sweet scent of death. I had trouble believing an empousi would spill blood needlessly, yet at the same time refuse to kill their subject.

I voiced it to Hunter in a moment of false confidence. She glowered at me, and we didn't speak for the rest of the day.

There was also another day, perhaps a few after I found the blood, when Kronos dismissed Hunter from training. It was a Saturday, so I was with them, but never before had he insisted on working with me alone.

"Go train with Nakamura and Brook for today," he told her. "Learn what they're working on. Some variation is good for you. I must talk to Bree alone."

I hate it when someone puts me on the spotlight. I stood there, staring stupidly at him, wishing I could come up with some witty comeback to put me on top of the situation. With most others, I could've – but this was Kronos. Everyone, even Ethan, was timid as fish around him.

He just stood there and stared back at me, eyes raking up and down from my head to my toes. I felt kind of exposed, but I didn't tell him to stop. Eventually he said, "If I asked you to kill me, right now, fast and above all silent, what would you do?"

"My lord? Wouldn't you stop me with your time powers?"

"Don't answer a question with a question! Assume I had none. Assume I am just going to stand here and do nothing until a blade touches my skin. What are you going to do?"

I thought for a moment. He and Ethan hadn't just been training me magic and fighting skills these past few months – they'd been training my mind and thought process for these situations. "…Your throat," I finally decided. "It'd cut off your air, so you couldn't scream. There are nerves and blood vessels there. It might take a couple seconds, but it'd be silent and fast enough. Can I ask why, my lord?"

He ignored me and asked, "How many places can you name that'll put a man down for good?"

I squirmed. I didn't like this topic of killing. I had felt Death in such an unnatural way before – at the Battle of the Labyrinth, stumbling upon the Hecate kid's body. It crawled up my throat and seemed to explode my cells, unleashing strange energy not too far from the shadows. It made my head buzz. Not entirely unpleasant, but… Big. Effective. It boomed in my chest like a kick drum. Did I have the right to cause such an effect, to destroy life? Especially when it tasted so addictive, like all the drugs we'd learned about in health class? Like it was temptation from the devil?

"Child, answer me."

"Head. Usually guarded and hard to hit but silent and painless. Throat. Lungs, so long it's deep enough. Stomach. Heart. Deep across the upper forearm. Couple places in the thighs that'd cause someone to bleed out." Yay for all those shark attack shows. "Spine. Any wound big enough has the potential to do it."

He nodded slowly. "Be careful with belly wounds. They depend on what's been punctured. It can be unreliable. Now, how would you do it with your powers?"

"Um… A random Stygian iron spike from the ground. I can make them sharp if I concentrate. Blood boil. Shadows wouldn't kill, but it'd be a nice cold shock to my advantage… I could shadow travel past and nip you with my sword, I guess. Stygian iron works as a shadow."

"Though not as well," he said sternly. "And the Stygian iron from the ground is too loud, noisy, and predictable. Blood boiling is loud and messy. As far as the shadows, I imagine enough in rapid succession would do the trick, but it'd wear you out and that's not a good idea. Very well. We'll work on your powers today."

I nodded and brandished my sword, the Stygian iron humming response to my touch. I had found that it was quite useful in lending energy or channeling magic.

"Now," he said, "as we do this, remember the places you said you'd jab at with a sword to kill someone. That's of use to you even when using magic. Alright, now-"

"My lord? I thought we were working with magic?"

"We are, you dimwit. Why ask?"

"…Are we working on magic, or assassinations?"

He gave me a cold smile. "We're working on how to apply your magic to killing people or other beings, child. It is a war, and you'll be fighting in it. What else did you expect?"

I had nothing to say to that.

oOo

A few days later, it was just me, Brook, and Hunter in our dorm. I was struggling to lift my massive shield composed of Stygian iron, courtesy of the new glyph.

"That thing will be useless in a fight," Brook warned. "It should change materials."

A cold chill went up my spine. Something dim as a shadow flashed on the wall and Hunter's face behind her. I hissed and shook my head vigorously. "Say that again?"

"It should change materials."

This time, I memorized the shape, and quickly doodled it with a pencil as to not forget later. Then I borrowed Hunter's scythe again, and began to carve.

Thirty minutes later, my sword could also change its matter.

"That is wicked," Hunter said, watching.

I grimaced. "It'll be helpful, but the wood mode is very weak. It'll smash easily. The sword is meant to be Stygian iron. I don't think the other forms will work too well."

Hunter shrugged. "Only use them when you absolutely need to, then. Ooh, look – that one flashes blue, not purple!"

I had noticed that, but didn't comment. The color didn't really matter to me, a dull, grayish blue that at its height should've been the color of cobalt glass. All that I felt was a swell of pride in my blade. I turned it back into a sword, tossing it back and forth, deciding there was a reason I'd drawn it this way from the bowl of water months ago. Then I changed it back to an eraser and slipped it into my pocket, swearing that if that blade saved my life – and it already had – then I'd give my life to protect it, too.

oOo

Maybe a total of four months since we'd arrived, in the middle of October, we finally managed to communicate with Ethan. Efficiently.

On our way back to dorm 333, he caught our eye. He was standing in a dark corner of the corridor, eye glinting like molten jasmine, hissing through his teeth at Herald. Ethan looked positively peeved. For a moment, I was worried that he'd draw his sword on the smaller boy. But he held his ground firmly and settled for gripping his sword hilt tightly.

"Look," I heard Herald whisper as he rubbed his tan arm where there was a small pink scar. "All I want is whatever you have. Protection."

"Protection?" Ethan spat through his teeth. "From what?"

"From the man, dog. From the big one. From the pack leader. From _Kronos._ What did you do to earn his favor like that?"

Ethan scowled. "One, I didn't earn his favor. Trust me. Second, it's not something that can be repeated. Bug off – this isn't your business."

"Come on, bro. Everyone knows he sent you on that quest two months back. He trusts you with the devil's daughter." My fist tightened. Pluto was not the Greek version of the devil, thank you very much. "He asks you for reports and has you run around like his little personal Hermes. Man, you're the teacher's pet. And the teacher don't abuse his dog."

"For the record, that quest nearly got me killed. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd intended me to die out there. I am not his _pet._ And if you say _one more word_ about those girls, I'll-"

"Those girls ain't gonna protect you," Herald whispered. "They're his pets, too. They ain't gonna step out of line to save you if something goes wrong. Think about that, bro." And he stepped back, melding into the flow of the crowd as if he'd been there all along, disappearing in a heartbeat.

Ethan grumbled something and stormed across the hall. He froze when he saw us staring. "Did… Did you…"

"See and hear all that mess? Yeah," Hunter spat, glaring at the crowd. "I hate that guy."

"Yeah, well, it's my business, and not yours. You don't even know the full story, so you shouldn't bother-"

"It became our business when they attacked us," Brook muttered so sternly he paused to look and listen to her. "They hurt someone else, it's our business, especially if it's our mentor. If you get into trouble, we interfere, because swapping teachers now isn't in our best interest. Sorry for the inconvenience."

He scowled. "I told you already; you three stick together and don't listen or worry about anyone else. Stay with people you absolutely trust. That's the only way to survive. Anyone else is a potential threat to you."

"Even yourself?" Hunter challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"Even myself," he replied evenly, green eyes boring into her. "Quit poking your nose into places it doesn't belong!"

"What if we just want revenge on Herald?" I suggested. "Kind of convenient if we take it now, huh?"

He glowered. "Are you deaf?!"

"When I want to be," I retorted. From my jacket, I drew the bottle of prank poison. It was crystal clear, like water. "I got a full dose of this stuff left, and for _my own interests_ – if that pleases you more than for yours – I'm going to slip it into something of his tomorrow. And you're not going to stop me."

A literal growling noise rose from his throat. "Why are you doing this?" he spat.

"Because it matters to me, and nothing you're going to say is going to change that!" I shot back venomously. "Now bug off! This is my business, remember?"

His eye was like a sharpened blade of jade. "Fine. Be that way." Then he spun on his heel and marched away.

oOo

Looking back, I don't blame him for being ungrateful. If you stop to think, he was just… in the dark. He didn't know what it meant to help someone out before. He'd been on his own too long to understand why one might lend a hand to another. The last time he had tired, years ago, he'd lost his eye. And he'd been in utter isolation since. He had lost sight of the benefits of helping someone else. All he knew now – all he'd been shown – was the downsides. The cons. The risks that went wrong. So he only saw it as foolish. That was all he'd ever known.

So I'm glad we stepped out. I'm glad that, even if it took a few tries (his shoulder, the potion) that we managed to revive some of the light in his eye.

We did it at dinner, when everybody was coming to him and his friends for trade. They practically served as our mall. I had bought some nectar from them once, in exchange for a couple coins I'd found at the base of my storage chest. Drachma, I believed they were called. Old, bumpy golden things that I quite liked.

Anyways, Hunter nudged Ethan and jerked her chin towards Howard. He gave us one last smoldering look before turning his attention – covertly, of course – to the slick trader.

Herald was chewing on his spaghetti (they had awesome sauce, by the way, complete with pepperoni) and frowning. "Interesting," he muttered. "Never tasted like this before…"

"My gods, you three are idiots," Ethan muttered.

Herald made a face and spat out the noodles suddenly, a strange choking sound coming from his throat. Next to him, Mac made a confused face. "You alright, man?"

Herald groaned, hunched over and clutching his stomach. "I'm gonna be sick…." Then he disappeared, falling off his chair and crashing into the floor. Kids leapt up and leaned forward, straining to get a look. Mac yelped in surprise and almost fell out of his own seat, eyes bugging out of his head.

"Did we kill him?" Brook whispered. Hunter shook her head and motioned for her to be quiet.

Then, a small cat leapt up from the floor and onto the table, brown pelt glistening in the light. The amber eyes were wide as it ran in circles, mewling in utter shock. Then its forepaw slipped in Herald's plate of spaghetti and he tripped, sprawling across a platter of shrimp, tail and paws flailing wildly in the air.

"Ha!" Ethan burst, an astonished look on his face. To my disbelief, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards just a little.

Herald screeched and leapt to his paws, fur fluffed up and eyes wide, claws sinking into the table as he stared down straight at us. Hunter giggled and waved her fingers, blinking rapidly, putting on a show. I showed him my finger rather proudly. Brook blushed and hid her face in her hair. Ethan raised an eyebrow and made a mock salute. And, for the first time since… ever, there was a genuine smile on his face.

The cat's tail and ears drooped and he stared at us, dumbfounded, astonished. I gave him my best Hunter smile. And he leapt off the table, hiding under Mac's chair.

Ethan and I were smiling in honest. He knew, at last, that he was beat. That had _so _been worth using my birthday present.

Though it'd be neat to be a cat for a couple months…

The next day, during training, I slipped on one of the tiers (we were on a slope, and that was the only way to gain a flat surface) and my ankle snapped. I grit my teeth and bit my tongue, drawing blood. The heat radiating from the fracture felt like a fire. It got worse when I realized I had, rather stupidly, left my nectar behind.

"Here," Ethan said, handing me his own canister. With a quick (and painful) twist of his wrist, he set the bone back in place and ordered me to drink.

As I handed it back, I said, "Because you'll get killed if I'm hurt, right?"

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, eyebrow raised in a, albeit smile-lacking but still just the same, smirk. "No. Because it matters to me."

oOo

Nyx: We are chugging along now. Look at that. The book is half over.

Nic: Half? I thought the original was just over two hundred?

Nyx: The original sucked, remember. This is the rewrite.

Nic: You estimated this at four hundred total, though, not five hundred.

Nyx: Oh, psh! We're well underway! Trust me on this.

Nic: Oookaaay….

Nyx: Anyway, I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT. Here it is; ….Please review! I mean _review!_ Something longer. Tell us what you think of the characters and how you see Ethan's gradual change and what you think of the raven and Kronos's teachings of killing people and what he plans for the characters. Give us predictions and complaints and criticism and questions and chapter name explanations and anything else that crosses your mind! I don't care if your review takes 20 pages (hyperbole), I'll read it! And probably love you for taking that much time out of your day. Please, it's not hard! Give us details! We want to know what you, our readers, think! Things are written to be read; tell us how we're doing!

Nic: To all those that answer all of the above questions, you will get a virtual bucket of cookies!

Nyx: Oooh! And virtual stroganoff! With your choice of virtual beverage!

Nic: I think we're almost out of the virtual root beer, though…..

Nyx: Thanks for reading! We look forward to seeing (figurative language?) you next week!

Nic: Oh, I found some more! …Wait, nope, I drank that bottle last night….


	26. Marilyn Manson

**DISCLAIMER: We do not own PJatO or HoO. Rick Riordan does. Obviously.**

**REVIEW RESPONSES:**

**Annabeth Chase: Yay! Glad you like it. I am sorry to report that there are no major fight scenes this week. There are small pockets of life-and-death situations, but not a fight. However, know this; the last half of this book is going to consist mainly of the Princess Andromeda and the Battle of Manhattan. There will be plenty of action, we promise. We are not one to censor those fight scenes, either.**

**Karode: Very helpful, don't worry! Glad to know we're portraying Kronos the right way. He has a bad habit of falling into American slang (through Luke) when he's upset. I've really worked on his dialogue and actions to make it look right. Now I know I've succeeded. Thanks!**

**Assassin427: Oh, don't apologize! We weren't mad or anything! We were honored that, even when you had nothing else to say, you answered when we asked. (Nyx: YES! MY HUMOR DOES NOT FAIL!)**

**If you cannot tell, most jokes Nyx usually tell end up with awkward silences. :p**

oOo

Halloween rolled around at the end of the month. At school, they'd always discouraged dressing up. Or trick-or-treating. We were considered 'too old' for such immaturity.

By contrast, Halloween was my favorite holiday.

It's like when they ask you to dress up for school pride week – there's spirit to it. It's a day of fun, thrills, and friends. A time when you can get so scared you pee your pants and not have people harass you for it, because in reality so did they. And a competition for some – you have to have a good costume, of course. It teaches planning and time management, too. Ha! Take that, Mr. Kazit!

But I had asked Kronos back in August if there was to be any celebration for Halloween. He'd given me a strange look and asked, "What is Halloween?"

"A holiday."

He scowled. "We don't officially celebrate holidays here, though if you want to participate, I think the demigods have small little things they do to pass the time on such days. Little things. Not many people do."

So when I woke up Halloween morning to find that someone had strung cobwebs all over the walls, I was pretty surprised.

"Hunter?" I breathed as I gawked. Other demigods were stepping out of dorms and staring in awe. "…Did you do this?"

She had that classic don't-trust-a-thing-I-say-if-you-want-to-live smile on her face. "Well, I helped out, but Kronos did most of it."

What the…?

"Why?" Brook asked, stepping out into the hall and spinning around. Spider webs clung to her hair and clothes.

"For the Halloween party," Hunter said simply.

Brook did what was best in these situations – pretend everything was normal. "Did we get costumes? I don't think we did."

"I got some, but we'll put them on later. There's still training today. The party is after dinner. I convinced him to let us stay up all night."

I stared at her. "And how did you do _that?"_

"I might've sent him a strongly worded letter from anonymous telling him that Halloween was a magical night that shouldn't be messed with, and that holding tradition was the best way to prevent tragedy. I think he knew I wrote it, but he believed it anyway. Come on! Wait 'till you see the dining hall!"

As it turns out, only the demigod side of the cafeteria was decorated. The monsters' side was still bare. Probably necessary. And unnecessary, given their usual meals.

Breakfast consisted of colored foods. Green eggs, black ham, hot pink toast. As the last of the demigods were trickling in, Ethan sat across from us with a very wide eye. "…Holy Styx. What's going on here?"

"Halloween," Hunter said simply, chewing on her eggs.

He gave her a strange look. "Halloween?"

"Yes," Brook said. "You know, when kids dress up as monsters and demand candy from people's houses? And make a point to scare the heck out of one another?"

"I've never heard of it."

I was busy choking on my ham, but Hunter said, "Well, this is a great time to learn. You got a costume for the party tonight?"

He scowled. "If I've never heard of it, would I be prepared?"

"No. I'll get you something before dinner, 'kay?"

A skeptical look crossed his face, debating on whether or not to trust Hunter with _anything,_ much less responsibility. Yet he also knew it wasn't wise to protest. "…Alright. Thanks, I guess…." And he began to play with his eggs.

Hunter smirked. "Just watch, you guys. This is going to be the best party ever."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Brook muttered.

Me, I was still stuck at _I've never heard of it._

oOo

"Here's yours! Think fast!"

I jumped back and raised my hands, catching the small blue glass orb Hunter had tossed my way. It felt warm. The colors and mist swirled inside, pulsing, lighting up at strange places and intervals. Like it was an egg, and there was a living creature inside.

"This is a costume?" I asked, examining it carefully.

"Not exactly. You break it, and it casts an illusion spell on you. The spell gives you the costume."

I frowned at the little orb, just a tad doubtful. "Will they be realistic at all? That kind of magic would require an in-depth description."

"It'll look real enough. Just don't put it on until I say, okay? Now let's head down there before everyone else does. Dad only managed to get five bags of Twix, and I'm not waiting for them to disappear!"

"Wait!" I called as she bolted out the dorm door and down the hall, weaving her way between other demigods. "What is the costume for?!"

"You'll see! We match!" she called, turning around and running backwards, holding her own pulsing blue orb in the air.

I cast a sideways glance at Brook. "Should we trust her?"

"_Should _we, or do we have to?"

"I'd laugh if that didn't scare me." I slipped the small orb into my jacket and hurried down the hall after Hunter. Brook locked and closed the door, then followed on my heels.

We heard the dining hall before we saw it. Music was pumping through some serious speakers. I recognized the song from a familiar animated Christmas/Halloween musical. Orange, purple, and green lights swirled and flashed even out into the hallway. The crowd was spread thin – we were early – save around the buffet table, where the demigods usually sat, picking around the candy set out. I dimly wondered if it was poisoned. Some of the people and monsters gathered were in their usual clothes and armor, but a few had tried some last-minute fixes – a pair of bunny ears here, some realistic-looking fangs there, and a familiar amber-eyed cat with his fur died dead black.

We found Hunter raiding the cupcakes.

"Thanks for waiting up," Brook muttered, but her attention was focused on the spread of sugary sweets. "How did…?"

"I think we've already had that conversation," Hunter said, swaying to the music and wiping frosting off her fingers.

My eyes landed on a bowl of candy corn. I hadn't had candy since… Since well before I came here to Mount Othrys. The taste of sugar I had almost forgotten.

The music was another great thing. So nice to hear it again. Maybe, in those things, I could lose my worries and my struggles and my responsibilities. Pretend I was human again. Just for a few precious hours….

And that's what we did.

We talked, we ate, we even danced a bit. Random movements that were coordinated but not all that in time and rather ungraceful. But fun nonetheless. My heart was a slave to the drumbeat. And I liked it.

Ethan showed up thirty minutes in. He was wearing all brown with a large, baggy shirt and a round, darker brown cap with a strange stick sticking out of the top. I frowned. Brook giggled and said, "You look ridiculous."

"Yes. This is what happens when you let Hunter pick your costume," Ethan muttered, sliding into his now-usual place beside us. His fingers trailed along behind his back slowly, reaching for the candy, as if he'd be in trouble if someone saw. "Tell me you guys made better decisions, little students I'm so proud of?"

I wished I could give in to his sarcasm and tell him no, of course I'd been smarter than to let Hunter pick what I wore, but instead I gave a sheepish smile and looked away. "Well, I'm sure we're not going to look more ridiculous than an _acorn."_

He scowled and took off the acorn cap, turning to the table and glowering at the brownies. "Stupid parties. Why create social pressure in a dog-eat-dog environment…?"

Hunter caught sight of him then. "Yo, Ethan! Like the costume?"

_"No!"_

"Aw, don't be so ungrateful. It was the best I could do at last minute!"

"And what you three?" Ethan muttered, flicking his hand at us. "Holly leaves?"

She smiled wickedly. "Nope. I've been planning our part for _months."_

He paled. "Does it involve explosives?" I could see the math in his eyes – explosives plus Hunter equals nuclear war.

"No," she said, eyes glinting hungrily. Then, much to my frustration, she leaned in close and whispered something in his ear.

He paled further. "Are you freaking _crazy-"_

She laughed, cutting him off. "No, no! Not at all! Just chill! It's cool!"

"It is _not!_ You can't get away with something like this!"

"I've been pranking for years," she said, leaning against the table and casually sipping root beer from a plastic red cup. "And he won't kill us over it."

Ethan's face twisted in a painful way. "Even if he doesn't, you're still risking your lives."

"Sorry, it's hard to take that seriously from a guy dressed as an _acorn."_

He scowled at her. "You are incredibly stupid. The kind of stupid that gets you killed ages before you see a real fight."

"Why thank you."

I can't say that conversation made it easy for me to relax, but I did my best. This was my night to forget all that, remember? Yet something tingled in the back of my mind, refusing to let me fade away entirely. It caused me to frown at myself more than once.

It faded, thankfully, as the night wore on. Maybe two hours after we arrived, when the place was packed and the music was blaring and the lights had been turned off (save the strobes, of course,) someone announced Kronos approaching.

oOo

Five minutes later, we were in our dorm, panting and pressing our backs to the door, praying that Kronos wouldn't get mad and bust it down.

"What… was that?!" I gasped, my shoulder shoved painfully into the doorframe.

The boy next to me – Hunter in disguise – smiled wickedly. I flinched. "The best prank _ever."_

Ethan, who looked rather ridiculous in his acorn suit, looked ready to smack her. "It was _not!_ Are you _suicidal?!"_

Percy – sorry, Hunter, hidden under the orb's illusion spell – gave him a wicked smile. Mischievous thoughts danced in his bright, sea-green eyes. "And would you like to top that wonderful piece of artwork we just committed, Nakamura?"

"No, thanks. The nearest cliff is quite a ways away, and I don't want to be caught in the halls when he's angry."

"Fair point," said a girl I knew was really Brook. She had blonde hair and grey eyes, a leather string filled with clay beads and a college ring strung around her neck. Both she and Percy wore orange t-shirts, jeans, and sneakers. Annabeth Chase, I recalled.

Despite the fact that I knew it was really just my sisters, I was jumpy. As was Ethan. My heart pounded at the thought of standing so close. Like standing next to a demon in the dining hall. When you're ready to fight and/or run like Hades just to get out alive.

I sighed and slid down the doorframe, knowing that if Kronos wanted revenge on us, he'd have gotten it by now. "So, what now?"

"I guess now," Percy – ach, Hunter! – said, drawing pictures from her pocket, "we laugh at these."

"You got pictures?" Annabeth inquired, stealing one. "How did…?"

Percy smiled and fingered a small phone, the same one Hunter had used to pull the Ricola prank on Kronos months ago. "Ta-da."

I was still trying to catch my breath and didn't really care to see, but even Ethan was interested, leaning forward to see what the pictures had captured. He even laughed, a sound we didn't hear often but felt warm somewhere inside my chest.

"I can't believe you pulled this off," Annabeth muttered. "'Guess Ethan's acorn costume makes sense now."

Percy smiled hugely. "Sure does!"

"Was Kronos a chipmunk, or a squirrel?" Ethan inquired, staring at a photo. "I can't tell."

"A squirrel. I convinced him that they're terrifying. Oh, look! This one's from where we jumped out an surprised him!"

When Annabeth, Percy, and whoever I was dressed as – I had no clue – jumped out at him. When we'd screamed and made to charge and almost died of a heart attack when we saw – low and behold – he was dressed as a fluffy-tailed mammal. Then when he tried to scare us with it. Then Hunter laughed and said, "Nice outfit, Dad!"

We had promptly been chased down the halls by a furious Titan and his scythe. He let us escape – Hunter time-warped us here and he ran off to change out of the suit and nurse his wounded pride. Which was, after all, the most common thing about Hunter and her friends.

Ethan had kinda been dragged along with us.

He sighed and sank to the floor, shaking his head. "That was, at least, the most fun anybody's ever had here. Is training for a war not enough action for you?"

"Never," Percy smiled.

"Don't ask what is," I advised. Ethan's eyes flitted to mine, then darted to the floor quickly. I frowned, confused, before remembering I didn't look like myself.

I stared down at myself. My t-shirt hadn't changed – a black one with dancing skeletons to celebrate Halloween – and neither had my black jeans or combat boots. My jacket had grown five sizes too big, and instead of its usual light, black form, it was a heavy aviator's coat. A silver skull ring glinted on my right ring finger.

"Who," I asked, "did you dress me as?"

"I forget the name," Hunter said, and to my shock, her voice was hers again. I snapped my head up to look. Sure enough, the Percy Jackson illusion was starting to fade. The hair had turned it usual brown/blonde, and he was taller than he'd been before. "He's the inane one people talk about. The creepy dude."

"The son of Hades," Ethan provided. "I saw him the day we arrived here, when he made the Black Wall."

I glanced back at Hunter. "My brother?"

"That jerk isn't related to you, Bree," Brook said. "He's not your anything. Just another traitor, like all the others."

Ethan frowned at that, but I'm not sure why. Something nervous fluttered inside my stomach. I stared down at my hands, watching as the calluses disappeared and the ring faded and my fingers turned back into my own. The jacket shrunk and returned to its usual form. My sword vanished, along with the chain it hung from around my waist, and reappeared in my pocket. I reached up a hand to touch my hair and, sure enough, it was its normal length.

"Well," I muttered. "That's that, I guess."

"Don't worry about it," Hunter said, slapping me on the shoulder so hard I almost choked on air. "Kronos ain't gonna kill us. Neither is the insane kid. We're good."

I let out a sigh of relief and, for both our sakes, tried to believe it.

"I ought to see if the coast is clear," Ethan said, waving me aside as he got to his feet. I scooted to one side as he cracked the door open.

"Going back to your dorm?" Hunter asked.

He shook his head, and a strange fire lit in his eyes. "No. Back to the party. I can't remember the last time I had sugar. My blood is fizzing like a soda."

She chuckled. "Give us an hour or so to let Dad cool down, then we'll join you."

"Alright," he said, opening the door wider. "See you then." Then he vanished, closing it silently behind him.

I sighed, moving over to my box of glyph designs. I hadn't found another one that meant something yet, but it was still fun to draw. I had also collected a raven feather from Atlas's courtyard, just for the heck of it, hoping my raven would visit me in my dreams. It hadn't worked so far. I pushed those aside and got out a fresh piece of paper.

When I turned around, Hunter's grin was about as wide as the Grand Canyon, eyes focused on something miles away.

I groaned. "What are you thinking about?"

Her bright gaze met mine. "Christmas."

oOo

Christmas was interesting for a different reason, though.

The rest of Halloween night was more eventful. Hunter had gotten Brook to sneak vodka bottles from someone – don't ask me who – and had entertained herself by slipping it into her father's drink. Which resulted in some very interesting dance moves.

The next day, a heavy snow fell, more than the usual inches we had (we were, after all, on top of a mountain.) The chill was just as thick. Though between hacking and moving and working magic, we stayed pretty warm.

November and most of December passed without much of a hitch. I ran out of foundation, which was strange, because I didn't ever use it. When I asked Hunter – it had to be her, as next to Brook I looked like a freaking pillowcase and her a tree – she only said, "Trying something new. You know, to see if Dad likes it. I think he does. He doesn't want me to be girly, but he expects certain… manners, I guess you could call it. He likes it when I'm presentable. And vanity is a very addictive sin." She gave me a wicked smile and flipped her hair back, winking, which caused us both to laugh.

The day before Christmas Eve, Ethan gave us some interesting news.

"I have another quest to go on. I'll be gone tomorrow and over Christmas."

"What?!" Hunter gasped, dropping her fork. "You can't be gone for the holidays! We were gonna go to your dorm with you and Kyle to watch Nightmare Before Christmas!"

Interfering with Hunter's movie night was not a good idea.

Ethan just shrugged. "Kronos's orders."

"What is this quest?" Brook asked. "At least tell us it's safe. You can't die on Christmas."

He stared at his shoes.

I felt like I'd swallowed a rock. "Ethan. Tell us."

He shook his head and flicked his wrist in dismissal. "The Underworld. Persephone is having a special sword and key made for Hades, one that can open all the doors to the Underworld and its parts. Kronos wants to resurrect more Titans with it. But for that, he needs to steal it first."

Brook had paled, something that was rare for her. "You're going to Hades? The Underworld? Across the Styx and everything?"

"Well, the ghosts won't bite."

"Do you know how many demons are down there?" I demanded. "Demons Kronos wouldn't dare bring here! Servants to Pluto! You can't… You can't be eaten on Christmas."

"Kronos said I could take a Titan with me. One of the ones here. I'll be fine."

"Fine, marching into an enemy fortress?" Hunter asked, raising an eyebrow. "Tell me, are you naturally this stupid, or did you get thwacked with a sword too many times?"

"I don't have a choice. With luck, I'll be back before midnight, and we can still watch the movie. Okay?"

"We could go with you," I said. "We'd stand a better chance."

A growl rose in his throat, alarm blossoming across his eye. "Absolutely not. A smaller party is less likely to be noticed at all. Besides, what Kronos says goes, and he says it's just me and a Titan. Deal with it. I taught you not to whine."

That ended that conversation. And killed all others that might've occurred otherwise.

Christmas Eve, not much happened. I trained with Kronos. Alone – he had dismissed Hunter again, as he now did every other week. The lessons I spent alone with him were more specialized to fit my powers, abilities, weapon, and fighting style. Or, to shape my fighting style, really. Mold it into what he thought would keep me alive, he said. In other words, into something that made sure my opponent wouldn't survive.

Christmas Day, with Ethan still gone, was equally as boring at first. Hunter, Brook and I exchanged gifts. That was the highlight. I had gotten Hunter a new bottle of foundation, one just two shades darker to match her skin better, and for Brook I had gotten catnip. She had been asking for it lately. I received a new fitted black shirt with a beautiful design of skulls and white roses, and my own personal pencil-like Stygian iron and Celestial bronze tool for engraving glyphs. Brook and Hunter exchanged a bottle of prank potion for a small, plastic Siberian tiger toy. Then we headed off for breakfast and training, talking about anything we could to keep our minds off Ethan. But unfortunately, with both Hunter and Brook working with Kronos, I was alone for the rest of the day.

Two hours before dinner, I couldn't take it anymore. I left my training post and ventured towards the back of the palace, searching for Hecate's magic portals and scrying bowls, planning just to take a quick peek to see if he was okay and open a portal if he wasn't. Not that I knew how to do those things, but I could learn, surely. It couldn't be that hard. I had the humorous idea of instructions posted on the wall…

_Shk._

I heard it. But I didn't stop. I kept walking as if I'd heard nothing, but inside, my heart began to race. It came from around that corner ahead of me. Maybe I could ambush whoever was hiding… Crap, but I didn't recognize the sound, running in like that could be a bad idea, but I didn't stand a chance unless I could surprise them so I kept going….

As I came to the corner, I drew my sword and leapt forward, shadows gathered at my palms and swirling up my legs, their cool shock like frozen adrenaline. "Show yourself, bas…"

I trailed off, staring at the empty space. Huh. No one. _I must be hearing things…_

_ Then,_ of course, the explosion went off.

oOo

Nyx: EXPLOSION! YES!

Nic: Still no major fights. Our fans are asking for them.

Nyx: They're coming soon! Very soon! Do not fear, we are hardly halfway done! There is plenty of room for gore! I know how you guys feel, waiting for something exciting. Don't worry.

Nic: Yay for whoever voted on our poll! Just one person so far. We're going to leave it up another week and see if we can get a bigger data pool. Now, ON WITH THE STORY! *Still love you, Ethan!*


	27. Chess

**DISCLAIMER:**

**Nyx: Yes, we admit! We own PJatO!**

**Bree's Raven Buddy: *shrieks***

**Nyx: Okay, okay! You caught us! We don't!**

**Bree's Raven Buddy: *growls***

oOo

A bright golden flash, quiet but so bright, rushing so fast, very disorientating. I bit my tongue to keep from yelping – yeah, as _if _I was about to satisfy whoever had done it – and jumped back. The blast shot past me and slammed into the wall with a deafening sound. The hallway rumbled.

Not waiting to see the result of the blast – it was more like a shot than explosion, I saw now – I continued to leap back, nimbly dodging more shots to come. Two more did. Then I retreated to Shadow Form, frustrating, knowing the light was dangerous but not daring make another move without knowing where the attacker was.

I began to burn. It got hotter and hotter, uncontrolled. My shadow retreated from the light of another blast. If I hesitated, moved too slow, I could see the wall as it was in the real world – marble burnt and sizzling, molten rock bubbling lazily like a crayon left in the sun.

My shadow, now moving at incredible speeds, shot away from the black-and-orange mass of the wall and around the shots, searching for whatever had set them off. Everything felt sharp, crystal clear detail, even fresh scents assaulting my nose. There, that bright speck… It set off flames, shooting at me…

I leapt from Shadow Form and rolled to one side, dodging the blast, and bolted forward.

Another loud crash erupted as the shot slammed into the ground, immediately followed by the blinding sun of another fired. I parried it with shadows and continued, whipping around one last bend, sword raised. I knew they were here this time. There was no way for them to escape my blade, my magic, and right then there was nothing I wanted more than to see their hands cut off for such a stupid stunt.

But before I got there, the shots stopped. Sure enough, when I checked the little hiding nook, there was no one there.

I growled and searched the place thoroughly in Shadow Form. But they hadn't gone into hiding – they had retreated, and were nowhere to be found. They didn't attack again.

Satisfied, I dropped from the shadows and continued walking. There was only one reason they would run.

I had scared them. Ha! They ought to be scared, now shouldn't they? The shadows still in my palm purred with satisfaction. I liked the idea of having the power to scare someone off. To know people were scared to mess with me.

Hunter was right. Vanity was quite addicting.

oOo

Yet it left the question of who'd done it. Hunter and Brook had no idea, and Herald hadn't tired anything since the prank potion (which had worn off in mid-November.) We were at a loss of suspects.

"Crazy empousi," Brook muttered. We chuckled.

When we arrived at dorm 427, Ethan's room, his roommate let us in. Kyle, that was his name. The one with glasses and chocolate brown hair, richer than even Brook's locks. "Hey. Got the movie?"

"Yep," Hunter said, displaying it proudly. But there was something beneath her voice, a layer of tension that we all had – for Ethan hadn't come back.

Kyle was the first to voice it. He looked up and down the hallway. "…Is that kid with you?"

Brook raised an eyebrow. "If by 'that kid' you mean _your roommate,_ then no, he hasn't come back yet."

"Where is he?"

"His name is Ethan, and he's on another quest," I sighed, plunking down on the floor next to the small DVD player Kyle had traded energy-restoring potions for. He didn't use magic, so he didn't really need them, anyway. "I couldn't figure out how to work the scrying pools, either, so we don't know specifics."

Brook opened the box of cookie dough, we put in the movie, turned off the light, and settled in for a nice Tim Burton musical.

Nobody spoke when it ended. We glanced at the door, hoping someone would open it and come in before we had to leave. Just sat there in the dark, avoiding one another, staring at the glassy glint of the doorknob. Praying it'd turn.

We waited there until Brook fell asleep. Then, with no other choice, we woke her and headed back to our dorm, heads low in defeat. First the attack, then the failed scrying, and now this. It would really, really suck, I decided, if our new friend did die on Christmas. Suck worse than getting blown up by stupid golden magic explosions.

oOo

"It's nothing to worry about," Hunter sniffed the next morning at breakfast. "He probably tripped over his own feet and got turned around somewhere."

Betting turned around in Hades was not a good thing to do, as you could fall into Tartarus or prey to demons very easily, but of course none of us said that.

Looking for a new subject, Brook asked me, "Have you seen the raven lately, Bree?" I shook my head. "Have you figured out what it means?"

I sighed and set my fork down, giving up on pretending to eat. "No."

Brianna stared at Ethan's empty seat, troubled. "You know, it might have something to do with this. With that." She motioned to the chair. Then she nudged the white-haired girl on her other side. "Hey. Hey, Celeste. I got a question for ya."

The bleach-blond looked at her with dark grey eyes. "Hm?"

"You're a daughter of Athena, right? You're supposed to be smart?"

"I guess so, if you follow stereotypes," Celeste said quietly, with just a tiny edge. I had seen her around before but never paid attention; she was, like myself (until my parentage became a big deal), very good at blending into the background.

Brianna motioned to me. "She saw a raven in a dream. You have any idea what it means?"

Celeste's face turned to one of understanding. "Ah. Several things, really. The most common associations with ravens in modern society today is death."

It took her a minute to translate the cold silence that earned in response. Her eyes fell on the empty chair. "…Oh."

"Anything else?" Hunter prompted in a low voice that implied that, if there was nothing else, Celeste better come up with a convincing lie.

"Well, the original myth from Greece is less related to death. Ravens were originally white, you know. Did you see a white raven, Bree?"

I shook my head. "No. It was black."

"Tough luck for the raven. The original raven… See, Apollo had his usual group of lovers. One of them, Coronis, fell in love with another man named Ischys. A beautiful white raven saw them together and reported it to Apollo. And you know how gods are – when they're angry, well, all they see is targets. He ordered his sister Artemis to kill Cornois for her treachery. Coronis's body was cremated, as per tradition. The smoke and the ashes stained the raven's pure feathers dead black, and so all its offspring were the same. Though in visions people and oracles claim to see both white and black ravens, representing innocence and the lack of thereof."

We were quiet, pondering on that. She didn't like the silence. She began to fidget, glancing around nervously. "It could be your friend, I guess. Ravens could mean death. And nobody here is innocent. We've seen too much for that."

Hunter sighed. "No, I don't think it's him. Thanks for the story, though."

Celeste relaxed visibly. "You're welcome." And she turned away, vigorously eating her eggs as an excuse not to speak again.

oOo

Two days later, Ethan came back.

He wasn't injured like last time, thank the gods, or whoever else you want. We saw him rush in during breakfast and bolt straight for where Kronos stood. We yelled in alarm and waved, calling his name, but he acted as if we didn't exist. He was covered in soot and dirt from head to toe, but didn't have so much as a limp on him. It took me a minute to see what was wrong.

He was alone.

Hunter watched him talk to her father with a guarded expression. "Oh, no…."

"What was the Titan's name? Iapetus?" Brook murmured. "He's a Titan; he can't be dead, and he couldn't be defeated easily…"

"Titan of mortality, pain, and death," Hunter confirmed. "Not easy to beat."

We watched with curiosity, concern, and dread as Ethan finished his hushed report. Kronos did not look happy. He snapped and yelled, too far for us to hear the words. Ethan flinched back and, staring at the floor, muttered something. Kronos narrowed his eyes, growled, and gestured sharply to where we sat. Ethan made a clumsy bow and scrambled down the table, heading for his seat.

He looked worse close up. He was shivering due to the cold. The jacket he'd worn when he left was missing. He had small scratches across his cheeks, bright red beneath his wide jade eye, which darted around nervously as he sat.

"Are you okay?!" Brook burst, staring in shock. "Where's….?"

"Iapetus?" Brianna finished, then went on, words tumbling from her mouth. "What happened? Did you run into the Keres?! Or the Furies?! Which was worse? Oh, crap! Did Iapetus fall in the Styx?! It can burn away souls, right? Can it do that to immortals? How did you get out? Did you get-"

"Shut up!" Ethan snapped, but flinched back as if he'd been the one yelled at. "How do you know all that, anyway?!"

"I was sitting right here when you told us," she reminded him.

He scowled and turned away sharply. She looked hurt, but didn't comment, turning back to her eggs.

There was a moment of silence – none of us were wanting to upset him after that – before he reached a shaking arm across the table. "Brook, could you pass the pancakes?"

She handed them to Hunter, who gave the plate to Ethan. "You alright?" she hissed.

The platter shook in his hands, but he managed not to spill it. "…Fine. How's it been here?"

"If you're fine, then it's the Isles of the Blest here," she growled. "What happened?"

He shook his head, eating the pancakes right off the platter. "We couldn't get it. Persephone noticed it was missing and called in reinforcements."

"And Iapetus?"

Ethan paused, and I knew it was a bad question. The feeling of dread became stronger. "He's… I'm not positive. Kronos said it was the Lethe, but…"

The name sent an uncomfortable shot of ice up my spine. I shuddered. That name… I should know what that meant….

"The Lethe erases memories," Brook whispered quietly. Dangit, she beat me to it again! Then what she said began to sink in.

Memory loss.

"Every last memory?" Hunter asked.

"Every last one," Brook confirmed. I shuddered again. Yes, that was right. That was the Lethe. In a way, it was more lethal than the Styx. "And he fell in…?"

Ethan shook his head. "No. Percy pulled him in."

Shocked silence. Even Brianna froze, staring at her eggs like they'd grown heads.

"Percy was there?" Brook breathed.

"As was Thalia, daughter of Zeus. Oh, and you're brother's name is Nico, Bree. Nico di Angelo." He went back to his pancakes.

I was stunned. My murderous, insane brother had a name. That hadn't ever occurred to me before.

"Anything else?" Brook asked kindly, holding out her small hand. Her tiny fingers stretched and spread wide as they could. "You want me to heal something?"

"I'm fine," Ethan growled, cut off at the end by a cough. Brook cast Hunter and I a worried glance, but there was nothing she could do for that, so she didn't insist.

Once breakfast was adjourned, though, Brook and I cornered him in the hallway. I had stolen napkins from the table and she had a water bottle in her pocket. She wet the paper towels and I did my best to scrub the mess off Ethan's face. He didn't protest; he had an understanding now of the mutual concern the four of us had for one another. He let me wipe at the soot again and again until the napkins were soaked and heavy. There were still smears across one cheek, but he looked a lot better now. Besides, if you didn't look closely, they looked like more frayed ends to his eye patch.

"Kronos didn't give you the day off?" Brook asked as we made our way to the training clearing. He grit his teeth and cursed the snow, shivering.

"No," he muttered eventually. "I got back last night, through the garden. Since I had the night to rest he said I'd be fine for today."

"The next time you go on a stupid quest," I muttered, "we're going with you."

"Kronos won't like that," he warned.

"Well, then he can pick someone else to do his dirty work," Brook snipped. "It's not like there's a shortage of possibilities."

oOo

The next few days could've happened at any time during our stay on Mount Othrys. Training, as usual. Sleepless nights spent listening to the strange buzzing noises in my head. They became more and more prominent the longer I stayed here.

After those few days, though, I was attacked again.

It was just me, heading back to the dorm to get the sheet of Latin and Greek words I had forgotten to get that morning. The hall was empty. So were the dorms lining it. Due to Ethan's training and past experience, obviously, I was on my toes. I was never truly alone. Not here.

That's probably what saved my life. Again. This time there was no sound. But I felt the air tense, crackles in the molecules, like a faint electric shock. A dense buildup of magic somewhere nearby.

As soon as the light appeared – it was off to my left, down another corridor – I hit Shadow Form and bolted out of the way. Still the light seared against my back as I went. It was moving _fast._

This time, I didn't wait to respond with my own shots. Down that hall, almost blind, not caring who it might be or if they were hit. Not in a moment like that, dodging flaming bursts of light fatal to a shadow, moving on instinct alone to stay alive. It only occurred to me later that I could actually kill someone.

As it was, I got a two second break from the lights. That's all I needed.

I shot out of shadow form running, lunging for the attacker, sword drawn and a battle cry on my lips. The golden magic vanished. Man, it'd gotten hot in that hallway. Beneath my feet, the floor sizzled and popped.

I caught a glimpse. He was in plain sight. Not attempting to hide. Maybe he didn't expect me to come this close, close enough to see, past his magic bolts. But there, scythe raised, stood Kronos, trying to shoot me down with molten-hot blasts of his golden bullets.

My feed skidded on the carpet as I slid to a stop, both from shock and the knowledge I didn't stand a chance against him, heart pounding like crazy. Without hesitation, he fired three bolts, straight at me, and disappeared down the hallway faster than my eyes could follow.

I cursed his name and dove into the shadows once more, using their speed to avoid the blasts. Ice, all over my skin, melting where his shots were. Burning. Hurting.

He'd tried to kill me.

Once the threat was gone I dropped back to a solid form, leaning against the wall, trying to comprehend that.

I'd been right. That was all the evidence I needed. Kronos, the one who was supposedly innocent, had just made an open attempt on my life.

I was calling Hunter's name before I even hit the shadows.

oOo

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down," Ethan said, using his hand to cut me off. "Now, what happened?"

"The same as last time, only-"

"This has happened _before?_ Why didn't you say something?" His sharp gaze landed on Brook and Hunter, who shrugged.

He sighed and shook his head. "Alright. Golden magic. Burns things. Light kills shadows. Got that. Who, now, did this?"

"Kronos! I saw him! He was just standing there firing!"

His gaze became skeptical. "Are you sure?"

"_No,_ it might've been Adam Gontier. _Of course_ I'm sure!"

Ethan sighed and shook his head, completely unfamiliar with Three Days Grace, and turned to Hunter. "Was he not with you at that time?"

"…No, actually. He left me alone with a demon sparring partner while he went and covered a few errands," she said. "But I don't think it's him."

He glanced at me. "Neither do I, Bree. If Kronos wanted you dead, he probably wouldn't keep it a secret from you, and he'd have succeeded. Trust me."

"I know what I saw," I growled. "We've had reason enough to suspect him these past few months, but this is where I draw the line. To say he's innocent now is to be completely and utterly blind. And since you survived in that stupid maze this long, I know you're not that ignorant."

Now he scowled. "It could be anybody with a disguise on, just like the orbs you three used on Halloween. Or even an enemy demigod trying to hunt us down. It makes no sense, anyway, for Kronos to attack you!"

"Ssh! Keep your voices down!" Brook warned, motioning to the stream of demigods out in the hallway. We were in a corner of the dining hall, watching them filter out and trying not to let them hear the conversation.

Hunter sighed and shook her head. "Bree, he's right. It makes no sense."

"Yes it does! He killed the Hecate kid, and now he's trying to kill me! At least tell me you haven't sunk so low as to let your own sister-"

"Do _not _turn this around on me!" Hunter yelled, whirling, golden eyes literally glowing. "I am _not _the bad guy here, and neither is my father! The whole reason we're having this conversation is to find the real offender, not make wild and irrational accusations! I'm here because that _matters to me,_ so don't start slinging words about how I don't care!"

"Guys! Be quiet!" Ethan hissed.

I ignored him, standing on my toes to be eye-level with Hunter. "You'd listen if I were Brook, wouldn't you?"

"Hey," Brook said, a tad put out. She didn't want to be dragged into this. But too bad, she already was.

Hunter gave me a puzzled look. "What? Where did that come from?"

"Ach! Just listen to me! Trust me! I know Kronos at least has _something _to do with all that's going on here!"

"Ssh!" she reminded me. "And I do trust you. I trust what you saw. It's just that what you see isn't always what's true, and that stands for everyone, alright? Especially with magic disguises going back and forth. Nobody's accusing you of lying or ignoring you, Bree. We're all in this together."

I growled. "Yeah. Right. That's why I'm left with only my shadow to talk to."

"Ugh!" she snapped, rolling her eyes and turning away. "You are so _thick _when you're angry! You can't listen to a word I say!"

"Ditto," I snarled.

"GUYS!" Brook yelled, while Ethan snapped, "_Shut the hell up!"_

I whirled on them. "No. No, no, no. We've kept our mouths shut for so long, we've become easy targets. Staying silent now is going to get people killed – possibly one of us. Not just me. You or Hunter or Brianna or Kyle, even. We're all targets now unless we _speak up and say that we're not."_

Ethan sighed and glanced over my shoulder. I turned – Kronos was staring at us from where he still sat at the table, golden eyes curious and head cocked to one side.

I sighed and walked away. "Later, guys. When we're not being watched."

oOo

"Knife!"

Before my sword had time to change, Ethan's sword was there, shoving me away. I growled, stumbled back, then regained my balance and charged. I'd have to work with my knife to get past his guard again. But that proved a tad difficult, so I yelled once more, "Sword!" The weapon grew heavier in my hands, more familiar, and I found it easy to push his blade away.

He sighed and backed up, signaling with his hand that we were done for the moment. We were both, despite the snow, drenched in sweat. "You have to stop…" he panted, "…doing that."

"Doing… what?"

"Saying every single… form for your sword." He straightened, shaking his hair like a wet dog. "It's like yelling, 'Go, Pikachu, go!' You need to find a way to establish mental communication with it."

And, of course, his words spawned another glyph.

I frowned. This one seemed to move, to alter, something I didn't think I could quite replicated. "Can you say that again?"

He did, knowing how my glyph sightings worked. The projection I saw was distorted by the movement and distances of the training clearing, but this time I got a clearer view. It was still vague, and I wasn't quite sure how it was linked to mental commands, but I made a quick sketch of it with my emergency marker on my arm. "Again."

And he did repeat it, five times, until I was sure I had the shape. Then I sat down in the corner and began to carve.

My mind wandered as I did. The fight between Hunter and I – the fight that Ethan and Brook hated – had been days ago. I'd lost direct count. Even once since then, I had been shot at, though I hadn't seen Kronos that time around. But I'd seen him once. It was even golden magic – it had to be either him or Hunter. Oh, no, but magic could be disguised, too. Since all my evidence is false, despite how sure I, their family member, felt about it, Kronos was innocent. I was wrong.

Ach! But I knew. I knew. Something was not right here, and I intended to find out what it was."

Halfway through the glyph, I felt more eyes trained on me than Ethan's. I glanced at Brook, but she was obediently firing arrows at her target. Ah, there – white-blond hair caught my eye. I turned, looking Celeste right back in her charcoal eyes. When I caught her looking, she blushed and stared at the cobblestones. "I… um…"

"Should mind your own business," I said flatly.

She nodded. "Right. Right. Sorry."

I sighed roughly, rolled my shoulders, and went back to my glyph.

oOo

Nyx: Okay, want to know why I'm late today? I stayed up until three last night. Not just for Breaking Dawn, though I did get that (anybody else fall in love with Seth and Leah during the fight scene? I was yelling at Nico to come watch, because I know he still wonders what would happen if he died first.) I was writing. The online chapters have caught up to where I am in the rewrite. My weeks are very rushed, and over last weekend, I had another project. I apologize! This WILL NOT happen again!

Nic: *eyes Celeste suspiciously*

Nyx: Oh, and yeah, Kyle. Named after somebody. You won't know unless you know me, and I'm not going to elaborate. He's from another story that I like. *and no he's not a guy/bf/crush*

Nic: Aaaaw.

Nyx's Cat: *scowls at the thought of competition*

Nyx: *snuggles cat* Let me introduce you people to my cat. He was my valentine this year.


	28. Tainted

**DISCLAIMER: We do not own PJatO. Rick Riordan does. Haley Riordan probably owns some of it, too. At least Alabaster….. *loved that story***

oOo

That night, as if it knew how troubled I was, the raven came again.

Or, really, I came to it, if I really was spying on someone.

We were back in the bone field. Obviously not where the raven was. He stood there, on a rib – I thought he was a dude, anyway – and was sharpening his claws on the skull in front of him. Sharp, wicked black things with sleek barbs on the undersides. Sharper than a cat's claw. He would scrape his talons across the skull, then examine them carefully, looking for flaws. He was never satisfied. He cawed angrily at himself and went back to work.

I dusted some of the bones aside to clear a space for myself, and sat down to wait.

For what, though? For him to notice me? For my courage to gather enough to speak? For something to happen? For him to finally be satisfied with his weapons? For Aslan to walk up and tell me the army was assembling? I don't know. Just waited. As I did, I watched the raven. It was a beautiful creature – lean, beautiful black feathers perfectly interwoven, shining perfectly in every light I could imagine. Even the legs and claws were black to match. It moved with ease and grace. Now and then its wings would unfold, though it never took off, displaying such magnificence I was at a loss for breath. The only thing that was not black was its iris; it had a big enough pupil, but the iris seemed just a bit lighter, with a tint of dark, dark blue….

The raven shrieked again, slamming his flawed foot on the ground, cracking small tail bones beneath it. It paced in a circle, muttering to itself, before settling in front of the skull again and continuing to work.

"I could help, you know," I offered. "If you just tell me what you're looking for."

I don't think it liked being startled. It yelped, jumping feet into the air and spreading its wings. For a moment, I thought it would take off and fly – that would be an amazing thing to watch – but it just fluttered back to the ground, staring with hating eyes, a growl building in its throat.

I held up my hands in a sign of surrender. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It's okay! I don't want to hurt you…" I crouched lower, trying to make myself look small and unthreatening. I did not, under any circumstances, want to disappoint this raven.

The raven's gaze was glued on me. He breathed heavily from the shock but was calming. Eventually its eyes began to flitter around – looking at the bones, at the mist, sharp recognition in its gaze. It was gone from its world – it was in my dream now. When it found the skull, it cawed sadly, ruffled its black feathers, and caressed the bone's cheek with his own beak and face. His eyes closed and he purred to it, one toe twitching anxiously, feathers shuddering as if under a cool shock.

I stared at those black feathers, wondering who had died and stained them such a deep black.

It didn't like me staring. Its dark eye snapped open, and its purr turned to a growl. It crept forward, planting itself firmly between me and the skull, feathers on end like a cat's raised scruff. The growl rose, becoming a shriek. A furious, threatening battle cry. The wings snapped out, making it look bigger, hiding the skull from my view.

"No! No! It's okay! I won't hurt it!" I told him. Another skull nearby my hand caught my eye. I stroked its bald head gently, shuddering at the cool smooth touch. It felt nice. "See? I'm not out to hurt anyone…"

Its gaze locked on my hand, the one on the skull, and the infuriated screech came once more. It took a daring hop forward. Those black talons glistened in the light, and suddenly, I was terrified of what he might do.

Another hop. Bones clacked but did not break under his feet. The feathers looked large and oppressing now. His eyes glittered, like cold, hard, soulless diamonds.

And he kept coming. I stayed where I was, crouched on the ground, too scared to move a muscle. Even when the raven towered over me, growling right in my face, I could not find the will to move.

Then, slowly, as if it were a caress, he lifted one foot. The talons extended. And he reached forward, under my chin, running the claw from my ear to about a quarter of the way down my jaw. I shuddered; his talons felt cold as ice, little frozen needles.

Something in the eyes snapped. It was smiling at me in a way that made my stomach twist. It clicked twice happily.

"No," I begged. "Don't-"

Too late. Its grip tightened, talons digging into my skin, cold needles inside me. Piercing my throat, the windpipe, different veins. I could feel my pulse against its claws. The wound burned and screamed for just a short moment. Then the pain vanished – I saw him yank his claws back, surely tearing out something with them –

And the world went black.

oOo

I woke up in a cold sweat, jumping awake so fast I fell off the cot and onto the floor, gasping for breath. My fingers felt along my throat, my jaw, searching. Was it real? No, no, my throat was still there….

Unsure, I got up and went to the mirror. What I saw shocked me. There, across my throat, were three faded pink scars. Not new, maybe weeks old, they looked like. But they were right there. I raised a shaking finger and traced the path of the raven's claws, too stunned to call for help. Just to stare in wonder and awe and fear.

Could I have died that night? Right there, in my sleep?

The image of the raven's smug smirk, diamond eyes cold and forever unsatisfied, one foot raised, talons dripping with crimson blood, made me shudder. Yes. Yes, without a doubt. If that raven wanted me dead, he didn't have to try too hard.

oOo

"Are you okay?" was the first thing Ethan asked when we told him.

I nodded, brushing the scars absently. "It hurt for a minute, but it doesn't now. And I'm not dead."

He scowled at the table. "I don't like this raven."

"That's what I said," Hunter muttered. "If it's a person, or another demigod, we can assume that they don't like being stalked?"

"Yes. The actions of the raven would reflect that of the demigod. And the fact that it seemed to enter the dream world when she spoke stands as pretty clear evidence that it's not an omen; it's a vision of the present."

"Who do you think it is?" Brook asked, twirling her fork absently. The tongs got stuck in her hair, but she didn't appear to notice.

Ethan shrugged. "Well, if ravens relate to death, and the feathers mean lack of innocence, I'd guess the son of Hades. Especially since he seemed fond of the skull. He wasn't too happy when he found out Iapetus and I were in the Underworld."

I stared at the table again, unsure of what to say. "What's his name again?" Hunter asked.

"Nico di Angelo," Ethan provided. I didn't need to hear it. I had remembered.

"Black talons?" Brook chirped up again. I nodded. "Then definitely. Stygian iron. See, this isn't too hard to figure out, guys. We'll get to the bottom of it."

"Not much to get to the bottom of," Ethan shrugged. "She unconsciously stalks him, he notices, he drives her away."

"And if he attacks her again?" Hunter pointed out.

"Well, then she'll have to draw herself out before he does, or we'll hope we get lucky and that it just causes old scars like it did last night."

"He won't try the same thing twice," I muttered, suddenly sure of it. "I'm not dead now; so he'll keep trying until he finds something."

"Kill him first!" Hunter yelled triumphantly, pumping her fist in the air.

"He might not want to kill you," Ethan muttered, staring blankly at a plate of omelets. Brook caught on to whatever he meant – she made a small sound of recognition and joined his absent stare.

"Hellooo!" Hunter yelled at them. She did not like being ignored on someone else's account. Her hand slammed down on the table, jerking them both back to us. "Care to explain?"

"Well," Ethan began, still looking distant, "there aren't many children of Hades or Pluto. And it's a harsh world out there. He's alone, and he's insane. He might have interest in turning you against us and making you an ally. _His _ally, not Olympus's."

"Then why would he try to kill her like he did last night?" Hunter asked, puzzled.

Brook shrugged. "Do you know that was his intent? What if what happened is what he meant – she was thrown out of the dream with a couple warning signs across her throat? That might be exactly what he wanted to happen."

"Oh," Hunter said, staring at the table. "…Oh."

"So an insane kid, a brother I don't know, wants to drive me insane as well so we can be best buds and wreck havoc on America?" I asked, just for qualification, because I wasn't quite absorbing all this. I was still stuck at his name.

Ethan pondered that for a moment, dissecting the question, making sure I understood as if we were simply reviewing the material I'd learned the day before. "…Yeah, you could say that."

I sighed and stabbed my plate angrily. "Great. Just great. One more stupid complication. Insane brother, murderous Titan, sadistic gods, unfortunate demons. This list is getting longer. Anyone _else _want me for their own stupid pleasures? Speak now or forever hold your damn peace!"

"Bree!" Brook scolded.

"Don't talk like that," Hunter muttered as she picked up her glass of milk. "You know you're not alone. We've been over this."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot. Thanks for all the lovely memories. Now I'll never be alone, no matter where you decide to place your feet."

She slammed her glass down, stood up, and walked away without saying a word. We stared after her in silence, but I caught the accusing glare Brook sent my way.

A flash of white hair caught my attention, though, and grateful for the excuse I turned away from her fiery glare. Celeste sat in her usual seat. But unlike others nearby, who were staring at Hunter, her gaze was fixed on us. Sharp intelligence sparked behind those irises. She had heard the whole thing.

I hissed and muttered to myself, turning back to my breakfast before anyone else could accuse me of something stupid.

oOo

Months went by. January and February. It was cold. People were miserable and snapped at one another often. Including us four.

There was still mutual care between us, but was silent and came out only when necessary. Like once, after Kronos had sent the blinding gold explosions after me again, I had stumbled back into training with a burn across my shoulder. Ethan had turned me away from Brook so she wouldn't see it and snuck me back inside where he could show me how to treat it. The care for her innocence – or what was left – moved something inside me. I was very grateful for it.

Though nobody admitted it was Kronos attacking, we began to travel in pairs. That way, I was always with someone. And the attacks only came when I was alone. Hunter was often the one with me. I think she was trying to prove that just because my theories weren't believed, she wasn't uncaring. She wasn't against me. It seemed like sick irony to me, but I found myself grateful for her company, even if the air between us was thick as soup and I caught her grinding her teeth on several occasions.

I asked Kronos why he tried to kill me one Saturday we were alone. He gave me a puzzled look and asked what I was talking about. Freaking lair….

There was another day, in early February, that Hunter was unusually friendly. That morning I had asked her why she only put foundation on half her face, to which she responded with a smile and, "I'm working on it, silly. I'm not done yet." The rest of the day, she made a point to mimic that smile when I looked at her. The next day, I saw again that the foundation wasn't everywhere on her face, but didn't comment. She was probably just covering problem areas in an effort to make it last longer. She didn't continue to smile.

Ethan was not issued any more quests, though I knew Kronos was sending out more. Either Hunter had voiced our demands about accompanying him, or the Titan thought Ethan had sufficiently failed at questing and was no longer eligible. Whatever had happened, I was grateful for it.

The thing that frustrated me most, I think, was the fact that Ethan and Kyle continued to forget one another's names. I knew it wasn't a good idea to get attached to too many people, but they were roommates. They could at least remember what to call that person they're stuck with if there's ever a fire.

The raven – Nico, the son of Hades, my maniac brother – did not come to me again. Or, I didn't go to it. Though I longed to see the majestic bird again, I did not want to see _him,_ and so I made myself feel grateful and called it fair.

And so passed another era of my life. The three glyphs on my sword, one flashing a muddy blue, the other a crude purple, and the newest one a dark green, showed no sign of wearing out or faded. Perhaps Stygian iron was a lot stronger than wool.

oOo

"So, are we clear?" Kronos asked the table. All around, people and demons nodded, indicating that they understood. "We are to board the Princess Andromeda on July fourth. We will time our attacks on Manhattan in early mid-August. The timing is very specific, so all the preparations must be ready. Know your jobs, and get them done, or so help me I will feed you to Zeus myself. Let this meeting be adjourned."

Creatures – one for each species of demon, representing their respective types – stood up and milled around, talking to one another. Ethan stayed in his seat. He did not want to get up and walk back out of the counsel room in their midst. Most of the other demigods waited, too – there were half as many here as demons, all serving as representatives and witnesses, as well as to make their numbers look big enough so that the monsters didn't try for a midnight snack.

More than happy to wait them out, he examined his sword's edge. Hm. It needed to be sharpened again. The Ancient Greek letters across its base gleamed brightly in the concentrated lights of the room. He ran his thumb over the engraving, shuddering, feeling the blade's closeness through his hand. It was like an old friend to him. Deserving, he dared say, of a birth certificate. He had lived and nearly died with this sword, and he would cross the Styx with it. End of story. No debate. He loved the blade too much for anything short.

_Savior._ That was the sword's name. He dared not tell anyone, as if they might steal the weapon's glorious identity, though he knew that was kind of stupid. He was just really, really fond of his sword. Many demigods were.

_Savior._ It would save Ethan, as it had so many times before. It would save the humans from Olympus. It would save his new friends, if called to do so. It'd save Brook or Bree or Hunter. It'd save the world if he called it to.

For a moment, his mind was occupied by his new alliances. No, it was more than an alliance. He found himself longing for their company. Enjoying it. In a moment of stress, he wanted them at his side, both to protect and to shelter behind. It had been so long since he felt such a way about anyone…

His gaze found Hunter. She sat at the head of the table, next to her father's empty chair (he was up and conversing with Queen Sess nearby, the new head of the serpents) feet up and eyes distant. He smiled, wondering what she was thinking about.

"Ooh!" she gasped suddenly, sitting up. "I forgot something!"

Half the people still in the room stopped to look at her. Ethan pretended not to. Kronos turned around – he was conversing a few feet away with an empousi – and asked her kindly, "And what might that be?"

Hunter's hand flicked in the general direction of the right back corner of the room. "I did some investigating. Celeste is a spy for Camp Half-Blood."

Ethan froze, and the whole room went silent. A few glances – including his – were sent to that corner of the room. Sure enough, there stood Celeste, eyes wide in shock.

"Oh," Hunter said suddenly, as if she'd remembered something else. "And cheese. We need cheese. We ran out two days ago."

Kronos spoke slowly, voice like frozen molasses. "Why, daughter, did you not mention this earlier?"

Heavy silence suffocated them all, punctured only by the slight clink of moving armor as a Laistrygonian gripped Celeste by the arm, making sure she couldn't run.

Hunter shrugged. "Well, it's _cheese._ It seemed a little irrelevant during a war meeting, don't you think? Anyway, Mozzarella or American, because I don't like Mozzarella, but American is too common and boring, so I figured-"

"Stop, daughter! That is not what I meant!"

"Celeste? I caught her in Hecate's magic section, scrying someone and using sign language, because they were obviously scrying her as well. She told them about Bree's raven dream. Anyway, some kids were asking for Swiss, which would be great for the trip because-"

"STOP TALKING ABOUT CHEESE!"

She snapped her mouth shut and pinned him under her sharp gaze. Then, rather suddenly, she leapt to her feet. Ethan wondered why cheese was such a personal subject for her. Though it didn't seem totally implausible. "WHY SHOULD I?! It's cheese! Quit discriminating! What did cheese ever do to you?!"

Kronos was howling now, leaning forward, teeth bared. _"It gives me gas!"_

AHA! Ethan knew he'd been blamed! "I KNEW IT!"

Dead silence.

Too late, horror began to creep up his chest. Shock, too – crud, had he spoken out loud? Was that his finger pointed accusingly at the Titan lord? Savior clattered to the floor. Slowly, he shrank back into his chair, pushed and prodded by Kronos's two golden knives. His eyes were glowing.

Embarrassment swirled in Ethan's stomach. _See what happens when you draw attention to yourself?_ he scolded himself lightly, trying to banish the feeling.

Kronos turned back to Hunter, gaze smoldering. "Daughter, come with me. Celeste? You too. We will discuss this matter in private."

All concern for himself vanished. A cold wave of dread washed over Ethan. He picked up his sword and held it close for comfort and watched as, calm and proud as if nothing had gone wrong, the trio strode out of the room. The remaining representatives just stared after them, too shocked – probably more about cheese – to move.

His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He'd known that Celeste was spying. It wasn't hard to figure out. She'd been 'observing' he and his friends for so long…. But he'd never found the guts to turn her in.

Because he knew what was in stall for her when he did.

oOo

"Tell me, Bree," Kronos said, waving off my attack to signal the sparring match was over. We had been, once more, trying new tactics. Just the two of us. "When did you have a dream concerning a raven?"

I was so shocked, I almost dropped my sword. "What?"

"A raven. Someone told me you'd dreamt of one recently."

Who? Brianna knew, but other than that, it was just Ethan, Brook, and…

…Hunter.

I cursed her under my breath for blabbing about my personal life to her father, then answered him truthfully, because I was scared out of my mind what he'd do if I was wrong. "Yes. I did. A couple months ago. I saw it three different times. It attacked me the first and third."

"Hm. I advise that you learn what it means, especially since it was aggressive." I kept my mouth shut. I saw no need to tell him that we already knew.

His gaze met mine. "Bree. You are hiding something."

Crud. Think fast, think fast! "So are you!"

"And what, child, would that be?"

I hesitated, suddenly aware I'd gone too far. "Like… Like why you keep attacking me. In the hallways. When no one else is around."

"Well, would you rather me fire when you're standing next to Brook?"

My heart skipped a beat. "Wait, what?! You admit it?!"

"Yes. I do. It was me. Now, about that sword technique-"

"Why do you want to kill me?!"

He cut off, eyes flashing. "Child, if I tried to kill you, you would be dead."

"Then explain."

"Alright," he said, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed. I, knowing what was expected of me, followed his example. "I am training you. I want you on your toes. I want to see how you work under pressure. I wanted to know that you weren't afraid to take a hit, and that you weren't afraid to shoot to kill. Which you aren't."

"Why not train me here?" I demanded. Fury was building inside me. This was his lie? This flimsy thing that had no reason or evidence to back it up at all? What, did he think I was stupid? "I've done perfectly well under a _predetermined _schedule!"

"You have. But enemies won't come at you when you want them to, girl. You can't expect them to play into your hand. They are your opponents, not your allies."

"But then why not ambush sessions here-"

"I am explaining to you, child, if you would only listen!" he snapped. "Shut up and let me answer your question!"

I did what I was supposed to do. I shut up.

"I have a task for you. I won't tell you yet, as you are not ready, but it is an important one. I am training you for that. Do not question me."

I looked around the training hall. "…You're training me to assassinate someone, aren't you? That's why you're working so hard on… On killing blows?"

"Yes, that's precisely why. There's someone I don't want in my way, and you are the one I'll use to fix that. It is in your blood."

I scowled. "You want me to _kill_ someone? I'm the best fit for that? Shooting someone down without a fair fight? Why me?"

He growled and narrowed his eyes. "You are a daughter of Pluto. It is in your blood to be indifferent and uncaring. Death is a part of you. Should you wish to deal it out, very few people alive today could stop you."

"So what if-"

"Do not protest, girl! This is your destiny!" I shrank back under his voice. "You are a daughter of Pluto. Your kind have always been just like your father; sadistic, violent, unstable, and dangerous. Look at your brother. He's the raven, is he not? He tried to kill you? I saw the scars that morning. I am not blind. Your kind has always been like that. Your first instinct is to kill. To create death. Do not fight who you are, child. You are a demon, as much as any monster in this palace. Your destiny has always been to tamper with dark, evil magic. It drives people insane, even the children of the Underworld. It's in your nature to submit to it, anyway. You are a hungry creature of the night, never satisfied. I am your caretaker; I will feed you, help you direct your powers towards our enemies. Do not resist me, and do not resist who you are."

Evil? That was his idea of fate for me? "I'm not a ruthless killer! I'm not like my brother!"

"You _are,_ child! You are just like him! All your kind is! Indifferent, crazy killers that the whole world tries to avoid! You have been all throughout history! I've told you before, girl, that human wars correspond with ours. In World War Two, it was Zeus and Poseidon's children against Hades's. The two younger brothers were the winning side. Tell me, if you're so smart, what that means."

I'll admit it took me a minute. When I realized what he was accusing me of, my breath caught. No. No, it wasn't true. I wasn't one of them. That couldn't be… It was the last thing I'd do, and surely it wasn't something my siblings had done, either. It was impossible. Yet his words echoed in my head. We were killers. Bloodthirsty. Out for death…

I shook my head and cut off my thoughts. "No. I would never."

"You would," he purred. He was pacing around me in circles now. "All your siblings did. It is your solution to everything. You are heartless demon inside. You are just like your brother. Listen to me, child. I do not aim to hurt you, and if you fight against your fate, harm is all that you will earn. Give in. Unleash what you are. Do not hide it. Let me protect you."

"I'm not a coldblooded killer."

"You seem to know enough about it now," Kronos said. "When I asked you that first day the best way to kill someone? A demigod of your experience shouldn't have known. But a demon? They'd know the answers in a heartbeat." He knelt down in front of me, so close I could smell his breath. "You are a beautiful, dangerous creature of the night. You are feared across the world, and rightfully so. You own the paranormal. _Nothing _stands in your way. Not unless you let it."

He drew back, a sad smile on his face. "I cannot save you from destiny. But I can help you. All that power, all that wonderful art of destruction, you can use for good. You are damned, child, but you are not lost. Let me show you your full potential. Let me lead you into glory. _Let me show you what to do."_

His hand reached out and touched mine, caressing the back of it smoothly. "You are a creature of amazing design. Together, we will go far. Just let me lead you. Let me teach you. By the time I am done, you will be queen of the night, as you should be. A glorious demon feared for her power and ruthlessness. It is what you are; it is what you deserve. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be sitting here oppressed by the Olympians. Even they fear you and your kind." He chuckled, running his fingers across my cheek, taking the hair from my eyes and tucking it behind one ear.

He smiled wider. "Yes, that is what I see. A beautiful demon, a powerful ruler, fierce as a wild cat. How would you like your father's job when we enter the Fifth Age? You would be perfect."

_Vanity. Vanity is a sin._

My mind was on the raven. His beautiful feathers. Elegant, powerful, mysterious. Could it really be a creature of complete and utter destruction?

Kronos liked the look on my face. His smile grew wider still. "There you go. Better now?"

I nodded, and he stood, offering me his hand.

I took it.

oOo

**Nyx: Yay for eerie ending! At least, I hope it was eerie. If you're smart, you'll know what Kronos is doing.**

**Nic: I think they get it.**

**Nyx: Yay!**

**Nic: NEXT WEEK – let's start with a shocking discovery, throw in a bloody massacre (happy, Mr. Marz?), set sail, blow up fireworks, and see just a little more of Ethan's role in all these secrets! We shall drop the brick on the gas pedal! And jam something under the break!**

**Nyx: Read and review! Tell us what you think! Our focus this week; predictions. What do you think will happen? How does Ethan tie into the death of the Hecate kid? Is Kronos guilty or innocent? Have you caught on to all the little hints or feel suspicious of other random events? Is Nico really out to earn Bree's allegiance? Let us know! Every review helps us right better!**

**Nic: To all who answer the prediction question, you get a virtual gallon of sweet tea!**

**Nyx: Not just any sweet tea. MY sweet tea. WATCH OUT, CHICKEN E!**

12


	29. Ignorance is Bliss

**DISCLAIMER: We do not own PJatO. Rick Riordan does. If we owned it, it wouldn't be recognized enough to BE on this site, so it's all kinda self-explanatory.**

**Review Responses:**

**Karode: Aha! I told you that I would rob you of your patience, did I not? Glad you like it! And I'm not sure if I regret killing you or driving you insane more. Or which one I'm most proud of. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Assassin 427: That chapter was named for the singer of the song playing at the party. The song was identified as a classic from Nightmare Before Christmas, which indicates the song This Is Halloween, and the rearrangement of that song for that movie was done by Marilyn Manson. That really, instead of a deep name, is just an expression of my love for music. Virtual gallon of sweet tea to you. And yay! Epic eerie ending success! Thanks for reviewing!**

oOo

"Ha! You kidding?" Brianna laughed. "There's no way."

Hunter smirked. "Way."

"No! Impossible!"

"Way," Brook, Ethan, and I all said at once.

Brianna giggled like a drunk empousi. "I should've known you'd figure out something. You dad know about it?"

"No one does," Hunter mused, smiling into space. "So shush. Don't tell anyone."

Of course, the reason we'd told Brianna is because we knew she couldn't keep her mouth shut. She'd whisper, and that whisper would spread, and there'd be rumors, and some people would believe and some wouldn't, and it'd stir up excitement, and nobody would tell Kronos, and then Hunter would pull it off and start a freaking riot.

This was, after all, what Hunter did best.

Brianna turned back to someone – Celeste wasn't in her usual seat, wasn't anywhere in sight as a matter of fact, and I was not sure why – and began to talk about her eagerness for the trip.

Before dinner, Kronos had announced that we were to board the Princess Andromeda (a ship, from what I understood) on the fourth of July. He should know better than to provide Hunter with an opportunity, yet here we were, making plans involving a crap ton of illegal stolen fireworks.

"I'm still working on the layout," Hunter continued, talking the three of us. Carefully picking her words, so no one directly picked up on just what we were planning. "I had one idea set out, but Brook came up with another. I'll show you the sketches when we get back to the dorm, Ethan. I'm not sure which one I'd like better."

He shrugged. "Has Bree seen them?"

"Yes."

"Then, Bree, if you had your way, which would you pick?"

"Apparently, if we had my way, there'd be gas chambers," I muttered bitterly. My mind was still preoccupied with Kronos's latest lesson.

Assassin. The word caught like a salt-coated cotton ball in my throat.

Hunter almost choked on her stroganoff. "What?"

"Nothing," I sighed, picking around my own plate. I had yet to find my appetite. "Something someone said."

Ethan gave me a funny look. "Were they mean?"

"No. Told me a few things I didn't know before. That's all," I said, glancing up at him with a stern look, but mainly trying to seem preoccupied with my food.

He bought it. "And that new information would be about…?"

"World War Two. And a few other things. Don't mind me," I said, forcing a bite down my throat.

It seemed to convince them. They went back to discussing their illegal fireworks show. I let out a small sigh of relief and set my fork down.

I think they knew, though, by the end of dinner that something was wrong. "You alright?" Brook asked as we stood to leave, motioning to my full plate.

Knowing I had to give them something, I shook my head. "My stomach's a little uneasy."

Hunter didn't seem to accept this one as easily, but she whatever she figured was really wrong, she seemed content to wait out. She knew – thought – I'd speak up about it eventually, when I was ready. "Alright," she said, my cue that she wasn't convinced.

"Hope you're better for tomorrow," Ethan muttered, giving me a sideways glance. A light danced in them that I had only seen a few times before. "There's a mass battle practice scheduled in an effort to prepare for sailing out, and the war to follow."

"Yeah!" Brook yelped happily, bouncing up and down. "Kronos told me I could skip this week's session with him to join in! He's going to play ref! All the demigods are going to compete in it!"

All the demigods? Oh, joy. _Looks like we might need more gas chambers, Nico,_ I thought bitterly.

oOo

I wanted nothing to do with my brother. I wanted nothing to do with that insane kid they called a murderer. I wanted nothing to do with my father, the long-sadistic mastermind and ally to the treacherous Olympians. I wanted nothing to do with my heritage. Especially if Kronos was right about our past.

Though, like he had also said, it didn't seem I had a choice. Teams were called for the opposing sides to the mock battle – Mac ended up being one captain, and Ethan the other. We would fight over the Black Wall Ruins, and fight for possession of the demonic wall itself. I was long used to being picked last at school. But that's not what happened this time.

"Yo, Hades kid!" Mac called first.

I grimaced and stayed where I was. I was no Hades kid, no matter how you looked at it – even if I were to embrace my 'nature' I was not Hades's daughter. I was Pluto's. Though yet again, as I had to remind myself, most demigods were not told of both Greek and Roman gods. Just one or the other. So to them, that's indeed what I was.

"Hey! Get out here, girl!" Mac called. "I know you're in that crowd somewhere, sweetheart!"

"Don't call her that," I heard Ethan mutter.

"Bree, that's you," Brianna whispered, ushering me forward.

Other kids were calling out from the crowd. "No fair! The magic-users should be split evenly!"

"They will be!" Mac spat. "But the demon girl's on my side. Come out, sweetheart!"

"Can I kill him?" I asked. Then snapped my mouth shut. Whops. Wasn't supposed to say that… Wasn't supposed to say anything, even joking, about what I was supposed to be…

"She isn't a demon," Ethan said, spitting it bitterly. "And quit calling her that!"

Whispers came from all sides. I heard mention of my brother and of my father and old, evil magic that hadn't (and shouldn't be) tampered with in decades, nearly a century. Signs of mistrust and religious signs to ward off evil. I even heard some people mention that I was too close to Kronos and his daughter to be relied upon.

Previously, I had seen it as random gossip, the same basic things I had ignored and not cared about in school. But now I heard a different meaning. A different depth. These were not exaggerated rumors off other false rumors of Nico di Angelo. They were not stereotypes and prejudices of my father. They were real concerns, real problems, based off real events. Kronos's words the day before echoed in my ears and pounded at my head and chest. Could I really be a monster? Surely, not all of the… No, I would refuse to say that cursed four-letter name!... Surely not all of them were children of Hades/Pluto? Surely not all children of Hades/Pluto were involved?

For the first time in my life, the whispers hurt. Not because I cared what people thought, but because I knew the horrible words might actually be true. I felt panic edging up my chest. This wasn't a game, these weren't lies, it wasn't an option. You're born as you're born. I couldn't change anything.

I shook my head. No, no, I had to get out of here. Before any of it got to me. "Tell them the demon girl's not playing," I muttered to Hunter – who of course had not singled me out – and shadow traveled back to the dorm.

oOo

That was not the last war game practice, of course. I participated in the later ones. Ethan and Hunter – for they were both captains quite often – made a point to call me to their team before someone else could. When that was the case, it was easier to block out the whispers. I knew I was wanted for a whole, pure reason. Not just the demon magic that, according to Kronos, would drive me insane one day.

_You're like a time bomb._ He'd told me that very first day. About my Greek and Roman blood. Perhaps, I thought many times and quite bitterly, that would speed up the whole process. Did insanity hurt? The raven did not come to answer my question.

As time wore on, though, the biggest change I found in myself was the dread. My own fear. The pressure knowledge put on me. But aside from my own fears and doubts, I felt no lapse of reason, didn't accidentally kill someone. Sure, I felt different, different enough for Ethan and my sisters to notice. But it was, after all, only my own depression.

Maybe some of it was caused by my powers, but if it was, I couldn't tell. The shadows did not change. They felt just as sweet on my tongue, did as they were always told, never failed to give me that breath-taking thrill. I was tentative with them, but they proved solid and sure every time. I found comfort in them, and comfort in my sword.

They saved my life, actually, more than once in these battle practices. War cries rang out and steel crashed on Celestial bronze and there was the same chaotic but organized movement I had seen in the Battle of the Labyrinth. With less blood, of course. Still some, but less.

At first, the whirlwind had overwhelmed me. But I recalled my several lessons. I was trained to handle this, both the mental and physical demands of a battle. I frantically dodged a bright flash of bronze flying my way and thought of something plain and simple. Hunter's golden eyes. Their sharp, happy color when she was enjoying herself. It worked. I felt panic melt from my mind and suddenly I could _see,_ see not just whirls of metal and chaotic movement but fights and swords and strategic advances. I saw the light in someone's eyes and could tell their next move, from my own inferences and from the plans written across their face.

Suddenly, this deadly dance became easy, just planned choreography. If not, skillfully half-planned and rehearsed improvisation.

Of course, that didn't help the sores and bruises felt the next morning.

These battle practices eventually became scheduled regularly on Wednesday nights. You were not required to participate, but if you didn't, it was common knowledge that Kronos would find some horrible task for you to do. Like feed the drakons. They were kept in the deepest heart of the palace, one of our secrets. Now and then you could hear them roaring, the rumble of sound in your chest. And you'd be able to tell that they were hungry.

Kronos was dangerous. That was never something I struggled to prove to Hunter or Ethan or anyone. People dreaded being summoned by him. He was usually unhappy with something you'd done. Punishment involved feeding the hungry drakons, a private lesson with him (which no one was brave enough to speak of after having one), being Atlas's personal servant for a day (and he was not kind), fighting against the people you'd offended (usually several, ranging from three to ten), and other punishments that used sheer fear and terror to install the missing discipline. Kids had come back with scars to show for it. Nobody said anything. It was no abuse. Not compared to the Olympians, the evil we were fighting against. Not compared to the old ways of the greatest army there'd ever been, the Spartans. No, this was light and easy.

Besides, it had never been more than a small cut, usually on the forearm. What reason did you have to fear that?

Ha. Ha-ha. No, I believed there might be something more to it than that. I believed there might be a tortured and dead son of Hecate involved.

I continued to investigate. Hunter was convinced, especially since the attacks on me had a legitimate reason, that he was innocent. When I continued to find no evidence to prove her wrong, she came back with some statement that made the disagreement my fault (and I could not live with such a lie) then say it was fine, anyway. Unable to accept that, conversations ended with me storming out. Or, if Brook was in the mood to pull our heart strings, the young brunet yelling at us to stop it.

I knew we were hurting her. She cried sometimes. If there was one thing I could not handle, it was watching Brook cry. It was hard to tell when she really cried and when she forced herself to in order to stimulate a reaction. But I didn't care. Either way, it wasn't something I could sit there and watch.

Yet I could not stand to lie to her, either, and say that we were fine.

Between the fights with Hunter, the pain we caused Brook, and the threat of my damned fate hanging over my head, I became rather depressed. As I said, the shadows never tried to invade my mind and drive me insane. Yet there was a light missing for the longest while. Things looked different. Like the whispers, I saw a new, darker side to everything. Like that tree over there – have you ever noticed how its branches reach out, like claws, trying desperately to escape the cold and heartless grounds of Mount Othrys? Reaching toward the swirling clouds that were Atlas's burden? Have you ever seen the way Ethan's lip is turned down? Even when his face is slack, there is something wrong, something bothering him. Not only was that bad enough, but he did not speak of it. It must be pretty awful for that to happen.

And so, little by little, I was dragged down to places I had never been before.

oOo

Ethan ran.

What else could he do? Great gods of Olympus, if Kronos found out that he'd seen… That he'd known…

If only he hadn't! If only he was still in the dark!

He could avoid this. The threat of Kronos on him. The harsh, heavy pressure on his conscious. How could he stay silent?

Yet how could he speak up?

He bit his tongue and kept running. Of course he could stay silent. He did about the deserters.

Though Kronos had been the one to tell him of that. He was _supposed _to know, and he'd taken oaths not to breathe a word. Not over the Styx, but oaths nonetheless. Kronos would punish him only if he talked, not because he knew.

This was different.

If Kronos knew he saw… If Kronos knew the thought had even crossed his mind…!

He ran all the way to his dorm and slammed the door behind him. "Hey," said his roommate. What was his name – Ken or something, right?

"Hey," Ethan replied, and dropped onto his cot. To hide the way his thoughts fought over one another in a confusing cyclone, he sifted through his small chest of things. There was nothing really in there. Just papers, plans for lessons with Bree and Brook. Nothing he couldn't afford to lose.

What should he do? Ah, as if he had a choice! The tortured thoughts threatened to come out of his throat, in any possible sound. He bit his tongue harder, drawing blood, and continued to sort his papers. No. No, no, no. He would not panic. He would access this like any problem, like every monster he'd faced, and figure it out bit by bit.

He wished it were so simple.

This wasn't so one-sighted now. Ach, having friends were so complicated. His interests were not his own anymore. How was he supposed to balance things? Whose life mattered more?

He scolded himself. Her life wasn't on the line yet. She wasn't exactly having the same problem the Hecate kid had.

Gods, why now? When so many things were so unsure? When he didn't know who was a friend and who was less and who wasn't either and what he was supposed to do…. His head began to hurt.

He let out a ragged breath and told himself that this latest news didn't change anything. He was still to go ahead with his plans. He would fight in this war and he'd win. He'd win it for Nemesis, his mother. He would. He knew – he had an oath with her saying so. It was as plain as the patch over the eye it had cost him. He had no choice, he told himself, but to continue.

Besides, there was no time to switch plans now… No matter what, there was but a month until they boarded the ship. Not enough days or weeks to plan and to act.

He shuddered. He had seen what happened to those who tried to leave and failed. He didn't wish that fate on anyone else, it was so horrible.

Yet wasn't that reason enough to rethink….?

"Aaah!" he yelled angrily at himself, throwing a stack of papers. That earned him a surprised look from what's-his-face-Ken-something, but thankfully he didn't comment.

He stared at his hands, then closed his eye and pressed his palms to his temples, trying to ease the throbbing pain. Aaah… What was he supposed to do? Things were so complicated now… And no matter what, he couldn't leave Hunter stranded and alone like that…

_First things first,_ he breathed. Damage control. Even if he didn't change his plans, or tell them not just the truth of their friend but what he had just learned, he could at least talk to her. Like a friend. Be there. He owed her – no, he felt compelled to – give her that much. As he would if it were Bree or Brook in her place.

But then what?

He had seen so much. From his quest searching for runaways, the one where Landon had bit his shoulder and his new friends had showed a strange new kindness to him, all the way to what _happened _to runaways like them should they be caught. Like the Hecate kid. Deserters were never respected and often killed in armies. But this, he knew, was beyond reason or right. Sick games that never seemed to satisfy Kronos.

_Why me?_

_Because you asked for it. This is what you wanted, remember?_ he heard his mother snarl back.

He let out a long, shaky breath. No. No matter what Kronos did, from the Hecate kid to his friends – for they were no longer new, Bree, Brook and Hunter – he was not as bad as the Olympians. As that camp where, if he was lucky and got attention, he was welcomed by scowls and harsh blows followed by laughs. He'd been ridiculed, not just by those kids, in so many more ways than one. Kronos, no matter what, was not worse than what Ethan's mother had forced his father into doing.

Kronos could never be as evil as that stupid gun.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he felt the sudden (yet familiar by now) compulsion to look at it. Not to touch, just to look. That gun that had forever changed his life. He removed the last of the papers from his box, revealing a small case concealed at its bottom.

With shaking hands, he unlocked the case.

There, in its velvet bed, was the gun. Untouched. Undamaged. He knew without question that it'd still work if he fired it. He'd never use it for the reason his father had, hardly at all seeing as he was a demigod, but he had never dared leave this precious relic behind.

He stared. It was a simple handgun. It'd probably take more than one of the weak bullets to actually puncture something. He had no idea of the make or model. He just knew it as _the gun. _The gun. The killer. The life-stealer. Death.

His hands began to shake even worse. Gods forbid he ever find another purpose for that tainted, awful weapon.

Unable to look longer, for he knew it was a sweet and deadly addiction, he closed the case and therefore all thoughts of his past. At least, for the time being. He began to stack the papers back in their place to hide it and let his mind return to the present.

For the first time in a long time, he felt the need to talk to someone. To ask their opinion on what to do. It was an instinct that his time in the Labyrinth had steadily and quickly worked from him, for there had been not a soul to ask. But now he felt the urge to run to somebody – Bree or Hunter, probably, for though while Brook was strong it was impossible to see her as older than ten. Eleven now, he corrected, for her birthday had passed.

He wanted to talk to them. To explain. To ask their opinion on what to do.

But he could not trust them. Oh, no, he could. But he could not trust them not to misunderstand, to act on their own, and that would more likely than not get them killed. Or tortured like the Hecate kid.

Kronos was much more dangerous than anyone here would ever know.

Dangerous, but not bad. Not evil. Ethan let out a long sigh and shook his head. No. He couldn't go to Brook, for she was too young, and he couldn't go to Bree because she was already troubled. And he couldn't go to Hunter. Besides, even without all that, though they were his friends and he needed advice, he had no right to dump that sort of a load on them. He was already in danger simply for knowing things, some allowed and some not, for being so close and memorizing secrets that the enemy would love to get a hold of. If he told them, Kronos would hunt all of them down, and lock them somewhere no one would find…

Ethan swallowed thickly and shook his head. No. No, he would not let that happen. He couldn't breathe a word to them. Even if he decided… To go back on his plans… He could not tell. Would not. For their own sake.

He would probably shoot himself with that gun if he ever let anything happen to them.

He stared at the box of papers. Huh. It had been so long since he felt that way about anyone. Most recently, it'd been his father, who had coincidentally shot himself. Ha-ha. Kind of funny. But that didn't solve the problem of Ethan not knowing how to handle friends. Or problems. Or anything.

Why had he wanted a life of such importance again? Was this the bargain he'd made?

He scowled at himself. Yes, yes it was. Nothing was stronger than his hate for the Olympians. They were the ones that forced his mother to leave, that forced her into whispering to his father in his sleep, they were the reason Ethan had watched at age eight from a park bench as he'd held the gun to his forehead. They were the reason for his torture at Camp Half-Blood. They were the reason of all his torture, from his father to the other demigods to those cursed years in that freaking maze… He still had nightmares about that…

He would not speak up. He would not go against his former plans. He had already lost an eye for this cause – he was not going to let that all fade away and mean nothing.

His one hope. That he would bring down Olympus. That he'd make the world right again, restore balance, restore peace. If not just for himself, for his dead father, and for his friends.

"Um… Ian, is it?"

Ethan didn't jump – he had trained himself to hide surprise well – and looked calmly to what's-his-face-Ken-something. Yet he could not stop his eyes from widening when he saw what the four-eyed kid held. A stack of papers, neatly organized. The stack that Ethan had thrown across the room and scattered everywhere.

Ken-something looked at him through clear glasses. "Here."

Ethan took the papers slowly, half expecting them to explode. He'd lived with Ken for over a year now, yet he knew to trust someone with anything was to trust them with your life. And everyone he'd trusted with his life in the past had turned out to be untrustworthy. Even Hunter, as close to her father as she was.

But it was, alas, just a stack of papers.

"Thanks," Ethan said, putting them away and closing his box firmly. "And, uh, the name's Ethan. Yours?"

"Kyle."

Kyle. Right. For the first time, Ethan made a mental note of it. "Okay. See you around." He checked his watch – crud, after lunch hour; Bree and Brook would be wondering where he was – and stood up, making his way to the door.

As he left that room, he felt none of his previous doubt. As if the torture of the Hecate kid and so many others and Kronos's dangerously simple plans and other problems were nothing more than flies he had already swatted away.

oOo

**Nyx: Yay! New chappies! I'm quite proud of this one. If you didn't quite understand that last bit, don't worry, you're not supposed to. The two things Ethan keep referencing is the death of the Hecate kid, which he reveals is related to the kid's attempt to desert the army (because of his morals, if you didn't pick that up) and something unidentified that he has just witnessed.**

**Nic: Thanks to those who reviewed! We had some interesting comments this week! And thanks once more to the single voter on our poll; we're going to leave that up until we have more votes. If we have more votes, anyway, as while you can pick your nose and pick your friends, you can't pick your friends' noses.**

**Nyx: Yay for that image and, about the Holocaust reference, understand that we mean no disrespect. Bree is depressed and has some dark thoughts, but by no means would we ever do anything intentionally offensive about that event in history. It's one of my favorite things to study, but I would never, under any circumstances, show it and those six million people disrespect.**

**Nic: On with the other chapters! Everyone's waiting for a fight, remember?**

**Nyx: Oh, yeah… My bad. Go ahead. :3**


	30. Beginnings

**DISCLAIMER: This is a site named for fan fictions, and we are almost thirty long chapters in. Yet I still will say it. Rick Riordan owns PJatO and HoO. The OCs are ours. **

oOo

I stared bleakly at the calendar I had made on the back of my glyph paper. A few days less than a month until we boarded the _Princess Andromeda._

The war games were in the morning today. We were eating breakfast early, then spending all the time between then and lunch – unless it should end early – with another mass battle practice over the Black Wall. Some people had, upon successfully capturing it, happily hacked at it with their weapons in a show of defiance to the Olympians. I hoped they knew that they weren't making even a scratch on Stygian iron.

Sighing, I stood, looking around the room. Brook was still sleeping. Hunter was in the bathroom – the door was open, revealing her standing fully dressed in front of the mirror, applying foundation like she had been for the past five minutes.

Finally, out of the corner of her eye, she saw me. To my surprise, she cursed and jumped, dropping the bottle of foundation.

I bit my tongue at my thrill – taking Hunter by surprise was no small feat – and stepped forward, picking up the bottle for her. She took it and swiftly secured the cap. Meanwhile, I got a wet rag and began to wipe up what had spilled. "Preoccupied?" I prodded gently.

"A tad. Didn't notice when you got up," she laughed nervously. It was a strange sound I had never heard come from her before.

I shrugged it aside and tossed the wet rag in our dirty clothes pile. There were shifts demigods had to take that would take care of daily chores like that. We'd been in the rotation a few times. As a matter of fact, I think our dorm was on dishes that night…

We woke Brook and went to breakfast. Everyone was jumpy – excited, of course – for the upcoming games. Even Ethan seemed on edge. His gaze flitted around and he kept his head turning, constantly making up for the loss of his left eye, as if afraid someone might sneak up on him.

"Something wrong?" Brook asked sweetly, blinking as if innocent. Of course she knew it was the game, too. This was her strategy of finding out if he was hiding something.

He shook his head. "No. Just worried about the game."

Hunter grimaced. "I saw that last week. The group that came up on your left."

Ethan snorted and leaned back, all signs of uneasiness gone. "Ha. Don't worry about that. I don't think they're going to try it again."

"Hm. No," Hunter mused, smiling. All traces of her scare earlier that morning had faded.

I stared down at my food. The games always upset me. As if the Black Wall wasn't enough to remind me of what I was – I had to use my powers to either gain or defend it. The powers that were demonic and hated.

_Since when did you decide you were trusting what he told you?_ a voice in the back of my head demanded.

I had no answer.

oOo

That night, I found the raven again.

I found it. I went to him. Subconsciously, of course. But I found him waiting patiently atop his skull, cobalt eyes glinting sharply as the bone-made plain came into focus.

Immediately, I found myself captivated by his midnight feathers. Particularly the wings. I had always found feathered wings pretty, but this bird definitely had my attention above all others.

The bird grunted and leapt off the skull, landing lightly on the smaller bones as to not crush them. I froze. He was going to attack again, I knew it. My heart began to pound. I felt the blood rush to my head, my hand flick towards my pocket.

He strode forward slowly, though, taking his time. Picking his way a few steps forward and then stopping. He studied the bones at his feet closely, picking one up, examining it before setting it down and selecting another. After a moment I realized he was sorting them into two piles. I saw no difference in them – they were small bones, and each pile contained everything from skulls to ribs – and wondered if he was waiting for me to say something.

I struggled to find my tongue. But eventually I located it. "…Hello?"

He looked up at me. Then, something that would've surprised me if I didn't know who he was, he spoke. The voice didn't come from the raven but seemed to echo, as if the mist were speaking. I could tell in a heartbeat that it was disguised, as the tone was flat and unisex and without all emotion. "_Who are you. Why do you come here so often?"_

From the raven came a growling noise. His feathers stood on end and he took one menacing step forward, head lowered, Stygian iron claws glimmering like shattered glass in the suffocating grey light.

He was waiting for an answer. I clamped my mouth shut. Ethan had trained me to watch everything I said – as to not let something slip to Kronos, something slip _about _him, or about myself. I had a secret to keep from Olympus. My parentage. My destiny, as it'd been called. My job.

Assassin. An assassin who didn't want anything more to do with that raven. With the sick fate that'd been planned for her.

The voice rose, and a growl echoed across the vast expanse. "_Tell me why you're here!"_

The words stole the breath from my lungs. I gasped, stumbling back. Bones crunched beneath my feet. The raven hissed, horrified and irate.

"_You have ten seconds, or you won't wake up tomorrow."_

Oh, crud! Uh… My heart raced like a startled rabbit. My brain had gone missing somewhere. My hand shook, and I prayed he couldn't see it. That he had me scared. That he'd lit my adrenaline on fire. "I… I don't know…"

_"Get the hell out of my head!"_

"I didn't mean to intrude your head!" I spat back, working on instinct. I didn't know what the words meant until they were out. "I didn't mean to come here! Just… Just show me how to leave…"

He took another menacing step forward. "_Liar. I can feel you here every time. You are looking for something, and I intend to find out what it is."_

"Looking for… I don't know what it is!"

"_You're trying to hurt me," _he growled, emotion finally breaking through the voice's disguise. "_You want to kill me. You want to know what I do."_

At those words, a fire lit inside my chest. Hot and blazing, ashes bitter on my tongue. Fury. Me? Want anything to do with that demon?! "I want _nothing _to do with you!" I howled. The mist amplified my own voice. The edges of the bone-filled plain began to tinge with red. "I wouldn't be here if I knew how to get out! Quit dragging me into your stupid dreams!"

His voice came back louder, competing with mine. The red began to stain black. "_Do not play this game with me. You are not here by accident. This is not an easy place to break into."_

I snorted. My fear was not gone, but I had no wish to show it further. "That's an opinion. A madman's mind isn't hard to crack."

"_Harder than you could ever imagine," _he purred. The last of my red stain was overtaken by the black spawned by his voice. Something whispered off to my left. A spider web crawled up my spine. I whirled around, ready to face whatever it was, but it was only more black mist.

Something shifted in the air. He had a smug look on his face; he knew I was beat. "_I will find what you're looking for, I swear. I swear on the River."_ Something solid rolled and rumbled in my chest, like thunder far in the distance. I took a tentative step back. "_As far as whether or not I will give it to you…"_

One claw lifted off the bones, glimmering, an obsidian diamond. "_You will not come here again without being invited. It is a dangerous place. The next time you have the nerve to invade my mind, I will find room in Tartarus for you. Tell your friends. I am not that patient someone who likes to be messed with."_

I woke up that morning to find that the scars he had left months ago – all but invisible now – had reopened. Not all that deep, just enough to bleed. They were cold to the touch. I shuddered, remembering the icy grip of the Black Wall, and did my best to pretend things were normal. People saw the marks, but they did not comment. They did not dare. For all they knew, I was an unstable who had made the scars herself.

You know, on second thought, that might be true.

I spent the day not worried about what I might become, for a first, but trying to figure out the best way to keep my consciousness from straying while I slept.

oOo

I didn't know how long it took my brother to find what I was 'looking for.' He did not reply. Either he could not find it, and he was in for trouble given his oath over the Styx, or he had and he was not going to give it to me. Both very possible.

I wondered what it was I was looking for, and if knowing would have helped me. Oh, well. Not much I could do about it.

The remaining month until the fourth of July went by too fast, despite the lack of events. I continued my assassin training, dark lessons bent on ending someone at all costs. The days ticked by in a dim haze. Hm. Maybe we were the ones in the gas chamber.

The most note-worthy event was one night Hunter did not come to the dorm. She was in her cot when I'd woken in the morning. Huh. I must've fallen asleep before she got back.

We did continue to fight. Brook had stopped protesting now. She just watched with wide, silent eyes, quiet as the snow.

oOo

"You okay?"

Hunter nodded her head firmly, staring straight ahead. Most muscles in Ethan's throat screamed, trying to get the words out. To tell her she was lying and that he knew it. He knew her better than that. But he knew he couldn't say anything. Much less in front of the others.

Brook clung to Hunter's hand, staring at the gathered crowd with wide eyes. Bree was scratching the scars on her throat nervously, looking around, jumping at every last sound. Ethan figured that if a raven flew in, she'd either behead it or yell and hide beneath the table. Maybe both. He worried about her. What her brother might have done, might still be doing, what he'd threatened and what he'd planned. She refused to talk about it, and that worried him more.

It was two thirty in the morning on July fourth. The selected demigods and monsters were gathered in the dining area. Soon, the party would set out down the side of the mountain opposite the Garden of the Hesperides. Then they'd creep across the small forest there and to the small bay where their cruise – battle – ship lay in wait.

Hunter shifted around nervously, biting her lip. "I hope I got the timing on those rigs right…"

Ethan sighed. "It'll be fine. Somehow, I doubt your stunt will fail tonight." Because you doubt the chances of failure for _every _stunt Hunter pulled.

She gave him a small smile. He returned it, then straightened his face and turned back to the crowd. It was still massive, but nowhere near the whole army's assembly. As of right now, they were waiting for the last of the drakons to be moved into the belly of the ship. It'd be a disaster to have others on board while they were being transferred.

At last, Ethan caught sight of Kronos at the doors. He waved for the girls to remain where they were and slid forward, past a few demons, to the Titan's side. "My lord, do you want me to give the order?" One of his many jobs.

Kronos shook his head. "No. Give the signal for stealth mode, and have them follow me. We have a problem."

Uh-oh. When solving a problem required an army of demigods and demons, something was undoubtedly about to go down. Along with a few lives.

Regardless, Ethan pulled a small green stick from his pocket and raised it above his head. The green flag – stored inside via magic – shot up out of the tip, like a dragon's tongue tasting the sky. It snapped back, then up, and back…. One, two, three times. By the second, every had fallen silent. He flicked the stick to draw the flag back in and drew another, smaller golden stick that signaled them to follow Kronos. At their head, the Titan waved his hands, and crept out of the room.

Silently, falling into rehearsed places, the army followed.

Ethan found his place near the front with Bree, Hunter and Brook. None of them dared speak. Not even armor clanked as they marched across the Black Wall Ruins, exposed to the stars and the clouds and the sounds of the raw night. Mainly the hum of magic, up here. Bree scratched her forearms. Something was really bugging her.

Ethan sighed, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath to clear his mind. He could sense a bloody fight coming. It was not a premonition you forgot in a hurry, and it was one that came often. The air tasted of leaves and fresh rain and burning firewood. A soft, cool blanket surrounding them. The soft winds caressed his cheek and played with the ends of his eye patch, tickling his skin. It tugged at his fingers and played with Savior's long shape. He put a hand on his sword to steady it.

The girls – much easier than saying all their names – stayed close to him, even Brianna, who was in a nearby line. He felt comfort there, the same comfort he got from his sword. The sure and steady feeling of trust, even in life-and-death situations. He had fought alongside Bree, Hunter, Brook, and Brianna several times during the battle practices. He knew their moves. They knew his. They worked like clockwork now. He felt the bonds, like those between the gears of a clock, thickening among them. They knew it was coming, too.

Silent as a raven slicing through the winds, they marched.

oOo

"My timing was late," Hunter whispered, looking quite put down.

Brook gave her the signal to shut up. We were nearing the boat.

I turned to look up at it. It lurked in the bay, blotting out the stars, slicing through the dancing light on the water. A great, hulking beast. It bobbed up and down, massive amounts of steel sliding in and out of the water, sending waves against the shore. The large ramp attached to its side and the pier – well, we had to get an army on board, after all – bobbed with it.

My attention turned to the windows. They were not lit, but I could see a figure moving about inside. They poorly mimicked the limp of an empousi as they did so. Ice shot up my spine.

I glanced at Ethan, who nodded in confirmation. It wasn't the one of the guards we had placed here to watch the ship; it was an enemy demigod.

They had taken the ship yesterday without us ever knowing about it.

The army stalked through the trees, no longer silent, marching as we should be. As if we suspected nothing. As if we didn't know of the dangers awaiting us on board, of the ambush hiding just out of sight.

Subconsciously, I sent a longing glance back at Mount Othrys. The place had been my home for over a year now. The more interesting, most important year of my life. Bree – not the human, but the not-so-demigod-freak – had been raised there.

Fear struck me as I stared. I had the sudden realization that this could very well be the last time I ever saw that grand black palace.

It took everything I had not to turn and run. To hide in its corridors, the one where the Hecate kid had died, if that's what it took. I would stay. I would defend it from any brother or son of Poseidon or god that came to hurt it, in any way, shape, or form. That was my home. I could imagine it now, my feet pounding on the solid, black wooden ramp we'd used to descend, shooting past Hecate's quarters and into the heart of the palace, through the cursed corridors and beyond our dorm and the Black Wall to our training clearing, closing my eyes and listening to the world, doing nothing, just noticing, just watching, like Ethan had taught me so many months ago….

Hunter nudged me, snapping me out of it. I sent my home one last glance, for it would always be my home, evil Kronos or not, then followed her instruction and turned away.

We were defending it, I told myself. A good offense was a good defense. Besides, who would attack it while we were away? Wouldn't both Greeks and Romans rush to defend Olympus?

I shook my head vigorously. No. This was not helping. That was not my focus right now, and getting distracted was not the thing to do before a fight.

As we marched, I closed my eyes and emptied my mind. My feet turned on their auto pilot, following Ethan and Hunter and feeling Brook follow, leaving my head free to wander.

To help, I focused on memories of Ethan's voice. _Empty your mind. Don't think. Follow, react, reflex. Observe. You're just another part of the environment, part of something bigger, and you're not the brain. You're the hand. _

The simplicity of his explanation, and the smooth tone of his voice, made it easy to slip into that state of mind. When I opened my eyes, my heart beat in time to the march. The stars were brighter. I felt the air grow hotter as someone stepped close and then colder again as they retreated a few inches. I could hear the animals begin to whisper in the woods to our left. The grass hardly made a sound beneath my feet, for it was already crushed flat. Many more windows to the ship held silhouettes now. The moon lit the planes of Ethan's face and hid Hunter's in shadow and laid stars across Brook's helm. In fact, the armor of all the army glittered in the starlight. Like we were the stars ourselves. I heard crickets crying and the mournful howl of a stray bird. In my mind's eye I could see where the enemy was hiding, where they had to if they wanted to plan a successful ambush, knew the way they'd stream out with a spear point and try to cut through our ranks. They'd keep us at the ramp, so only a few of us faced them at a time, and break us down slowly.

I let out a breath and kept marching.

Two minutes later, the front lines, led by Kronos, started up the ramp and onto the ship.

Nothing yet. They'd wait until we were just up on deck, suspecting of nothing (supposedly), then jump out for an ambush and push us back to the bridge. Then they'd use that as a bottleneck.

My feet moved over the ramp.

I shuddered, then forced my mind to blank again. I often got seasick on boats, but though my mind noted it, at the moment I did not care. It was no different, say, than noting that the ship's painting was white.

To my right, I saw a shadow that shouldn't be there move.

My last thought was of Hunter, Brook, and Ethan next to me. I felt them. Each one, on a deeper level, analyzing both memory and present to identify who they were. Ethan, the steady rhythm. Brook, the elusive sharpshooter, the sister. Hunter, the timeless dancer, the scythe-swinger, the sister, the best friend, the mother.

Then a battle cry split the night.

oOo

The clash of blades was quiet as a falling pin at first. Then it grew into a roar. Not too far ahead, I saw swords swinging. Closer was a threat to the right.

Then the enemy broke into our line, and too many sights and smells and feelings were flashing by for me to keep track of much else.

The reflecting starlight became harsh and fast, flashing like strobe lights as a sword bore down towards me. I stepped cleanly out of the way and tried for my own strike, letting my sword pick its own path. A solid jolt shot up my arm as I met a parry.

I frowned, dissatisfied. It left a bitter taste on my tongue.

But I had seen them move; I knew how they worked, at least to a degree. At that moment, in the distance there was a pained choking noise. As I dove past another strike and brought my sword back up in a miniature ambush, something happened that I had only felt once before.

It was almost like an explosion. Like a little bundle of energy that'd suddenly burst. A sickly sweet taste, almost bitter, flooded my tongue. Fire shot from my chest all the way to my fingertips. Details grew sharper, movements in HD, new smells crowding my nose. Blood and metal and sweat. Everything happened in slow motion; I saw the strike coming, stepped aside as if it were nothing but a fly.

It was irrelevant to me. I was faster, I was stronger, I was better. The sounds of the fight were nothing but background music. I found a beat somewhere – Ethan, mere feet away – and followed its course. The demigod lashed out again, but once more I ducked, much too fast to catch.

A smirk crossed my face, tongue swiping across my lips, searching for more of that strange taste. This was fun.

Another explosion of energy went off, like a kick drum beating in my chest. A battle cry I didn't recognize tore past my throat, ripping open my lips, and I lunged forward.

Sinking a blade into flesh isn't the same kind of resistance as you'd feel had the move been parried. Hardly any resistance at all, really. I shuddered at the cold, hard shock and ripped my sword free.

Around me, the demigods writhed and blades caught the moonlight and screeches of metal, pain, and triumph lit the sky like fire. My eyes skimmed my small space quickly and there – I saw another, coming at me just as fast.

For a moment, I swear we were just training. It was a sequence I knew well myself. There was an eerie sense of familiarity as their sword came down. I slid to one side, watching carefully. This displeased me, too – it was so repetitive, this trick they pulled. I had seen it so many times before.

The energy inside me kept building. It screamed like the shadows, begging to be released, to move, to do something, to strike and lunge and sink my sword into flesh once more. The demigod's sword shot at me again. I knocked it aside and slid closer.

A grunt of surprise came from them. Then, out of nowhere, they changed tactics.

Their beat changed, mismatched with the roaring chaos and screams. They stepped closer, too, and a blinding light flashed as their sword was raised once more.

This was more like it.

Their blade leapt at me again and again. I found myself hard-pressed to evade it. My own sword twirled easily as a pencil in my fingers. My heart raced. The sounds of the battle were once more background… Crud. Parry, dodge, slide in, strike, trust, cut, parry, dodge, new angle, parry, all in rapid succession. I felt myself being pushed toward another duel.

Another burst of energy. It rang of a short, brilliant life, like a blooming flower sliced off it stem. A blinding red fury stained the petals at the end.

I couldn't control it. Heat rose in my throat, my hand shaking, blind rage overtaking my mind. I lost my connection with Ethan and the others. I struck the demigod's sword aside, furious I'd been toyed with and that I'd let it happen, and sank my sword into their throat. Thick, hot crimson splattered across my cheek.

I wrenched my blade free, furious, another shock of energy running through me. And another. The scent was unbearable now. Blood and sweat laid beneath it. I whirled on the nearest enemy, flinging myself into the fight, finding Hunter and Ethan once more.

They moved like liquid. Ethan was soda; the constant, reliable fizzing, aggressive bursts of movement. Hunter was milk, weaving her way between cereal grains, smooth and too fast to be human, a golden blur.

They didn't help me. But they supported me. Brook was off to the side, taking shelter behind the railing, perched on the edge and firing shot after shot. _Thwang! _Before my eyes, a silver arrow sprang to life between two eyes and fell to the ground with them.

Somewhere ahead, Kronos laughed. The night lit gold with burning magic.

I joined the surging chaos, stabbing at the next target. Too slow. One approached from behind. Hot, horrible pain lit across my back. A shallow wound, but sending something like both ice and fire, like I'd been nicked with Hell's fingernails, shot from the site. The scent of my own blood stung my nostrils.

The details snapped into painful focus. Hate, my own this time, flooded my throat. This time I used the shadows to help – and I was leaping into the fight once more.

oOo

**Nic: You're glad we still have one chapter to go this week, aren't ya?**

**Nyx: This chapter is named 'beginnings' because it's full of them, more than you know. Felt the need to say that…**

**Nic: And we have news!**

**Nyx: Bree might be a mere anime fan, but we are more than that. We are artists. We apologize for having no cover up yet; it's merely taken us this long to make one! The latest version I am currently coloring via Photo Shop and, once it gains approval, will be up in a MAXIMUM of three weeks! (I only spend about an hour on it each day, and I'm not using my tablet for it as it's on a different computer in a different place, which slows me down a tad.)**

**Nic: The cover has yet to gain official approval from me. We have spent months debating this. We are very picky on our artwork, particularly Nyx, who refuses to let go of her image of perfection like a stubborn little mule, but bear with us. It'll be up soon, and it'll be great when it is.**

**Nyx: Alright, enough about us! On with the story!**


	31. To Light a Match

**DISCLAIMER: Rick Riordan is awesome and owns the equally awesome PJatO! We would announce that we love him, but we won't, not for the fact that it'd scare people but merely because while it'd be awesome, we are realists, and don't think he'll be reading this.**

oOo

Everything was beautiful, wonderful chaos.

Order was somewhere, under the depths like a hidden current. Energies buzzed in the air around my head and in my limbs, forcing me to move in such sudden and furious bursts I could hardly keep track of them myself. I had never moved so fast, not even when battling Kronos. The sick scent was so thick I was frothing at my mouth, trying to drown it out with my own spit. My fingers itched every time my blade slowed. To my right, there was the forever steady beat of Ethan. I caught a glimpse of his dark, furious jade eye as he smoothly slid around an enemy blade and, right in time with his beat, changed direction and sank his sword into their back. They dropped like a rock, leaving me with another fresh burst of energy. To my left, Hunter wound herself around the crowd, hardly a trace of her in their midst. She was fluent and flawless, as if the whole thing took no effort, scythe light as a feather. She dug it into someone's side and moved on before they had time to collapse. But, even faster than that, three more nearby fell to silver arrows sprung spontaneously from the dark, dark night.

I felt like something inside me, beneath the skin, was straining to break out. Was it the instinct of panic? Was it adrenaline set to _fight _mode? I didn't know. I just let it take me, let my mind continue to observe and be observed by it.

' Another battle cry split the air and I saw a flash of armor as another demigod stormed at Ethan. His rhythm sped up to a frantic pace. Before the fight could progress further, I stepped in and knocked the demigod aside as hard as I could. They disappeared into the fray.

Without words or agreement, Ethan and I took places beside each other and ran back to Hunter, who had just chased off another. Together, we began to press forward, aiming for the open deck of the ship where there would be more room.

And the heart of the enemy force, and the death of them could win us the fight and the ship and so much more.

The chaos and detached state of mind I used to fight makes the memory blurry after that. I remember the screams and the shrieks of metal and the hot, energized feeling in the air and the constant pressure in my chest to _move,_ to never ever stand still, the infuriating itch in my hand to put my sword to use. The shadows purred and nestled themselves close to me, lashing out at anyone who got close. Twice I had to stop them and save both Ethan and Hunter from a rather depressing fate. My mouth felt dry, despite the excess saliva. And my head buzzed and whirred and moved faster than it ever had before.

The steady, reliable arrows moved with us as Brook crept along the edge of the ramp. They were flashes of silver through the dark night, through the shadows swirling like mad, through the writhing chaotic mass of bodies and blood and weapons. I had never seen a place so bursting with life, and much less one so riddled with death.

We were going great until someone found Brook.

Hunter caught them fast enough. Her furious screech grated my eardrums as she charged, slamming them into the tall railing and letting them sag, unconscious, to the floor.

Her empty space to my left screamed as an enemy leapt into existence. I yowled as pain shot up my arm – I'd been stabbed – and whirled, firing at them with everything I had. They simply, or so it seemed to me, disappeared.

As I turned around to help Ethan against three more, the second ambush wave started.

We were overwhelmed. Surrounded. We hadn't gotten up the ramp fast enough; we were still bottlenecked, too few. I knew because I saw no reinforcements in the throng. Just the harsh glint and beady eyes with the intent to kill.

The shadows felt like they were bursting. I'd never used so many before. My limbs were growing heavier.

Then the ramp rocked and pitched beneath my feet. A year of training took over and yanked me into balance, hopping back and forth between spots where the wood was clear, changing my angle so I could remain on my feet. It was hard to do without getting hit. My sword moved through my fingers and air and against other blades like it was all butter. Once, I stumbled, and sliced another demigod's Celestial bronze sword in half by accident.

Then, of course, he took to stabbing at me with it, and I found myself rather preoccupied.

The air grew hotter. The clashes grew louder. The whole boat pitched back and forth, rocking the wood beneath me like a mighty earthquake. Waves began to slam against the hull and the shore, sliding up over the ramp and washing the blood away. Somewhere, a sound that felt like a knife raking its way up my spine, Brook screamed.

I called back, losing track of Ethan's pattern. My heartbeat spun out of control. I ripped myself from my current opponent, twisting to catch a look at her. I couldn't see a thing, too fast and being tossed with the boat. A warning glint of starlight – Ach! – I leapt back, feeling the tip of a knife slice through the air where my throat had been.

Blind fury built in me again. I knocked aside his sword, dodged his knife, and drove my shoulder up into his chest as hard as I could. He tumbled over the edge and splashed into the water below.

As fast as I dared, I turned and leapt and wound my way across the ramp, searching for Brook. Twice I was stopped by a charging enemy. Once I knocked aside, using the shadows, and the second I just evaded.

There. Clinging to the pole she stood next to, feet slipping and sliding over the edge. Her bow was nowhere to be seen – washed overboard.

_Whoosh._

The sound of a sword through air set alarms screaming in my head. I ducked just in time, spinning around and knocking their feet from under them. As soon as they were down, another took their place form my right. The shadows howled in triumph as I let them loose.

The sweet scent was hindering now. Overwhelming. I felt like I could hardly breathe. The energy had me bursting at the seams like a sick, overstuffed teddy bear.

Pain exploded in my right shoulder. The force sent me skidding to one side, tripping over the tilt of the ramp. The breath was sucked from my lungs as I crashed into the wet wood. The scent of blood and salt water pierced through the sweet taint of death like a knife. Some of it was my own blood. I felt it – hot and sticky, running down my collar bone.

I twisted to regain my footing, panic setting in, clawing desperately at the boards. But I slipped on the wet surface. A foot connected with my hip, and I caught the looming shadow of a demigod above me, blotting out the stars like a huge black hole.

Another energetic, sickly sweet burst exploded inside me. As it did I dodged the sword. This time, I swore I saw lights go off, marking who and where the death had been…

The demigod lunged in, weapon bare, again. Panic lit like a fire in my chest and I skittered backwards. My foot hit the pole – in a desperate attempt, led by an old, ancient instinct that felt as crisp as a fresh breeze I shoved off and rolled to one side. At last, I felt my feet gather beneath me again.

I wasn't fast enough. My sword flashed up, but they were already there, sword inches from my face –

-And something slammed into them, knocking them into the pole and then over the edge and into the water. Whoever that'd been fighting with him lunged at the attacker, but a familiar Celestial bronze sword flashed up and knocked the blade aside. A foot, clad in a heavy combat boot we all wore into battle, slammed into their chest and sent them skidding into the crowd.

Ethan raised his sword again and leapt at another, as if he hadn't noticed me there at all. Maybe he hadn't.

I leapt to my feet and resumed my guard over Brook, and soon, once more silver arrows were sprouting into existence. Her bow had returned to her. On her other side, I saw a flurry of angry golden magic slicing through cold armor. Hunter, a whirlwind of caramel hair.

My limbs and sword had grown heavy. Too heavy to lift. Panting, I stood my ground, planting my feet firmly onto the wood and trying to clear my mind once again. I had to. The survival of us all depended on it….

…I recited facts. Never lose ground, return to the same position unless advancing gives you an edge, watch your enemy for signs of attack…

_ScreeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEE__**EEEEEEE**__**EEEEEEE!**_

A bitter trail of bile ran up my throat. My sword, heavy as it was, almost slipped from my fingers. I knew that sound….

A blazing light, followed by a tail of fire, shot into the night sky like a bullet. High up, it burst into a flurry of green sparks, flying out at all different angles, a neon flower blooming in the sky, hiding the starlight and bathing the battle in its sickly bright light. Swords and armor and blood and living forms burst into existence for just a moment, so fast, like a freeze-frame. Then we were thrust into darkness again, leaving my slow eyes to adjust.

_BOOM._

The sound clapped in my ears like thunder and thudded solidly in my chest. As soon as it did, three more fireworks streaked into the sky.

Hunter's little prank show had begun.

oOo

Ethan gasped, stumbling back, hardly aware of the dark shades around him. The open cut in his side threatened to drag him down, down past the wooden boards and consciousness into someplace better left unspoken of.

Out of his peripherals, he saw a swinging figure of shadows and starlight that matched the form of a swinging sword and its wielder. Praying he was right, he narrowly dodged the blade and lunged with Savior drawn. Luckily, he had made no error; he felt his sword sink into flesh in a chink in the armor and the enemy demigod sag, adding to the weight of his arm.

Ethan ripped his sword free and stumbled again, back to the railing lining the edge of the ramp. Was it just him, or was it bucking up and down, back and forth, making it hard to stand? Another thrust caught him by surprise and caused his knees to buckle. He cried out – it sent razors of pain from his side – and gripped the soaked railing tighter. His fingers had gone numb from the cold.

Before he could regain his footing, legs sliding on the slanted wood beneath, a brilliant flash lit up the night. The bright explosion burned his eyes. Details leapt into focus – the glint of armor and the tip of a sword and the scowl of a face nearby. Just for a moment, a frozen picture from a flurry of movements. Then it vanished, plunging his world into darkness again.

He turned his head to his left, scanning, letting his eye adjust, and a hard thud hit from within his chest and a loud boom crowded his ears. The sound of the explosion.

It was followed by more. Bright explosions of different colors, disorienting, lighting the freeze-frames of the fight at different times so the whole thing seemed animated. Panting, struggling to regain his feet under the flashes and confusion, the explosions got louder.

_Fireworks,_ he remembered. Hunter's Fourth of July/Opening Cruise fireworks show. All the explosives had been set with timers.

He took a deep breath and shoved himself back to his feet. Now he knew what they were, he ignored them, turning once more to the fight. He knew the colors an flashes would come constantly and serve as light, enabling him to see. He scanned his surroundings again, spotted an enemy demigod, and charged.

His opponent gave a sloppy parry, dodging to one side, eyes locked on the fireworks and lit with fear. He thought they might be bombs, Ethan realized. Confusion and small pupils in his eyes told Ethan that he hadn't yet adjusted to the fireworks' patterns.

He was, to sum it up, an easy target. Easy pickings.

Eventually, it came to light for Ethan that they all were. Enemies stole glances at the fireworks show, not because they were untrained but precisely the opposite, noting everything they saw, rendering themselves helpless to every bright, blinding flash of light. But friends and allies, who had heard the rumors of such an event, paid the phenomenon no mind.

The perfect advantage.

It was the only thing he was consciously aware of. Flashes, their benefit, constant threat, and the desperate instinct to stay alive.

The flashes got brighter and brighter, and more frequent. They were nearing the finale.

A bright, pastel splatter crossed the right side of his vision. Somebody had run into him. An ally, actually – he caught a glimpse of Brianna as she charged past. He stumbled away and swung his sword at the next silhouette he saw.

_BOOM. BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM._

His heart raced like a startled fish, panicking at this new competing beat. The flashes didn't quite line up with the sounds.

Less and less hostile faces came his way. They were all falling victim to Hunter's latest, accidental strategy. They were fish in a barrel. And, unfortunately for them, fish in a barrel don't last that long.

Ethan almost hacked at Bree before realizing who she was. He turned, searching for someone unfamiliar, for a target. He'd traded his eye for this, for a chance to strike against Olympus. It's what Savior was destined for. But he could see none.

_BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM!_

_ BOOM-BA-DA-BA-BA-BA-DA-BOOM!_

Like gunfire, like echoes of that lone shot in a park long ago when he was seven years old, rattling his teeth and causing the damaged wood to shake even more.

He felt the bridge creak beneath his feet. It groaned and bucked again, slower, groaning in a painful protest. An enemy demigod flashed by but was gone in a moment, lost in the blazing light of a purple flash.

_Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!... BOOM!_

The whole bridge shuddered this time. The screams and bangs of the fireworks had overtaken the screams and horrors of the battle. But screeches and cries and a horrible, deep moaning sound rose above the noise once more.

Too late, Ethan felt the bridge rock violently beneath his feet. It vibrated and shuddered and the moaning noise from within turned into a thunderous crack. It jolted beneath him, nearly throwing him off his feet.

A wild cry escaped his lips, instinct of self-preservation taking over, and he ran for the ship.

Screams pierced the night as the bridge gave out, first in the middle, dumping all those on board into the water. The wood beneath Ethan's feet quaked dangerously. Ignoring the searing pain in his side that sent its own fireworks across his brain, he ran faster.

The boards beneath his feet gave way.

Empty air opened beneath him. The world began to rise, he felt himself drop, a weightless feeling that pulled his stomach into his throat. With a wild yell, he lashed out at anything he could find, twisting his side in a painful way. His food connected, and he shot forward –

-There! His hands closed around the railing of not the loading ramp but the ship, locking on like vices. He slammed into the hard metal side and screamed in pain, his grip slipping, but somehow he managed not to let go.

Things raced by, plunging downward, battering him with wind as they went. Some things screamed. Others had been silenced. Some was just debris. The water below splashed and churned, adjusting to its new, thrashing load. Above, the fireworks gave one last, fatal _boom,_ and left the sky and starlight seeming rather empty.

The screams from below dominated the night now.

He heard water thrashing and the wet sounds of things landing. People below cried for help. The sounds were oddly distant, though. The closest thing to him was the burning in his arms and side.

Then voices came from above, too. "Get them out! Get them out! What do you mean, 'how'?! GET A LADDER, GENIUS!"

_Hunter,_ he thought at first. The sarcastic tongue was hers. But the voice was deeper and harsh, like a barbed whip. Kronos.

Ethan raised his head, trying to see over the lip of the boat, but he could see nothing but its hulking shape and the starry sky above, now stained with smoke from the fireworks. He felt and heard footsteps rushing around. Help…

"Hey!" he croaked, trying unsuccessfully to pull himself higher. "Over here!"

Someone cursed and, thank the Titans and gods and Fates and whoever the hell else, a pair of hands clamped themselves over Ethan's wrists. They started to pull, hauling him up against the side of the boat. He cried out as it strained the wound in his side, but bit his tongue, doing his best not to protest further.

The sudden lack of tugging gravity as he was hauled over the edge had no words. It was just pure relief, a much-needed reprieve. He lay shivering on the cold deck, feeling the gentle sway of the boat that seemed oddly solid, letting the pain fade to a minimum.

He might have died, then and there. Nobody really would bother to stop him from fading away. No one did. You didn't look out for one another in Kronos's armies; you tried to stay alive. Yet someone did care enough to kneel down and shake him awake. Ethan blinked up at the familiar face. Ken… No, Kyle. His name was Kyle.

"Man, get up," Kyle urged, grabbing him roughly by his collar and hauling him to his knees, ignoring Ethan's cry of pain. "Don't lie down again." Then he let go and moved on, weaving his way around the crowd to his next task.

Ethan looked around blearily. No more enemies stalked the decks – it was just them, just the Titan army. He turned his head, examining where the loading ramp had once been, staring at the empty air. On the other side, well over the majority of the army remained in wait, patient and unscathed by the whole scandal.

Next he searched for Kronos. He could hear orders being called, and he knew he better follow them, lest he want a large welt across his face. But the Titan was nowhere to be seen, despite the way his voice rang out. "Get everyone you can! Leave the dead! Find anyone who's still breathing!"

Ethan peered over the shifting edge, a long drop that made him nauseous. He saw ladders slung over the edges of the boat, even a window-washer-like platform lowered, and people swimming across the water. Searching for survivors. On the platform stood Kronos, pacing back and forth, scowling angrily.

Ethan groaned, clutching his side. If Kronos was down there, it meant one thing; Hunter had fallen. And, since he'd last seen her next to her sisters, so had Bree and Brook.

oOo

It just gave away. Poof! Gone! Good luck! Hope you can swim!

Freaking bridge…. Why couldn't my first fight been above solid ground…

The wood disappeared beneath my feet, leaving me in empty air to drop, head over heels, spinning in a space seemingly without gravity. Something slammed painfully into my head, my side, knocking my breath away –

Cold.

Cold shock. The water would've stung if it didn't make me numb first. Darkness slammed over my vision and my hearing vanished and my gasp for breath left my mouth filled with freezing, icy water.

I choked, coughing, sucking in more. My limbs thrashed wildly. I was searching, searching for anything, any way to figure out which way was up and which was down. The cold water stung my lungs. I had… I had to get out of here…

At long last, my head broke the surface. I gasped, spitting up water, trying to suck in air. But as I did, a wave splashed over my head, pushing me under once more.

I was lost in that cold, soundless environment again. It was almost peaceful. Even the pain in my lungs began to fade….

….And I found air again, bobbing on the surface. I choked and spat up water, grimacing as it scraped my throat like sandpaper. Then, finally, I gasped and sucked in air. It made me shudder and cough, but I kept going. The waves were gentler now; I could move up and down with them easily as I breathed.

Next to me, a dark head broke the surface and gasped for breath. Her hair was plastered to her head, but I recognized her in an instant. Brook.

"Brook," I rasped. She turned to face me, cried out, and swam to my side. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders, though not in a hindering way, and together we did our best to tread water. Nearby, I saw Mac floating face-down, and forced my gaze and thoughts away.

"I-i-it's c-c-cold," she hissed through chattering teeth.

"I kn-n-n-now," I managed. Wasn't there some famous movie about freezing to death in water…?

"OVER HERE!" The loud, sudden voice made me flinch. "This way! If you're alive, swim this way! We'll pull you on board!"

…Kronos!

"T-t-this way," Brook and I told each other in unison, and began paddling slowly for his voice. I could not see in such dim light, for we were hidden from the stars by the bulk of the ship, but he kept calling out, and we followed his cries best we could.

I don't remember much. I know that eventually, someone grabbed our shoulders and hauled us out onto a metal platform hovering above the water. The sudden lack of currents made me gasp in shock. Wind bit at my cold skin and clothes, nibbling, taking small pieces just a little at a time.

Brook huddled next to me, curled in a ball, skin white and lips blue. I wrapped an arm around her and buried my head in her shoulder.

"H-h-h-hunter," she rasped.

The thought had crossed my mind, but until I knew she was safe, I had shoved it aside. I couldn't bear to consider the other possibility.

No sooner had she said it, I felt a larger pair of arms wrap around us. "Here," Hunter choked, shivering just as badly as we were.

More survivors were hauled onto the platform. We huddled to one another like pathetic, newborn chickens trying to keep warm. Kronos's feet were buried somewhere in our midst. I heard him give the call to pull up, and beneath us, the platform shuddered and began to move.

I pressed against the demigod beside me, not sure who it was, feeling them shiver and finding no heat from their body like I could my sisters. Before we reached the top, they fell silent and still. The aftertaste of a sweet, sweet scent bathed my tongue. Unable to stand more of the smell of death, I looked away, hiding my head from sight.

Once up top, we were once more hauled by the shoulders, only this time onto deck. I was shoved up against a wet demigod – Hunter – and a dry one who happened to be waiting there for us. Waiting, as if he wouldn't leave until we came up. He really did care, didn't he?

Ethan reached out and patted Hunter's shoulder firmly, confirming she was there. Then he did the same to Brook and I. The world was dark and it was hard to see, but I watched as he pulled back and leaned against the wall. The cold felt like ice all over me, making it impossible to move. Hunter was vibrating like a cell phone. Ethan shook, but at a slower pace. His skin was paler than the smoke-stained moon above. Sweat glistened on his face.

The strong scent of blood nearby caught my nose. It took me a minute to find the motivation then look, then several more to find it – there, soaked into his shirt on his side. A dark red gash had been opened there. His breathing was ragged and he was nodding off, green eye half-open and distant.

I called for help. I asked passing demigods if they could open my nectar, because my fingers were too numb to even detach it from my belt loop. I begged them to help in any way they could. I even asked if they could get Kronos. If they knew an Apollo demigod. I promised them I'd repay the debt. But no one stopped. No one cared about us.

You had to be careful choosing your clique on Mount Othrys. They were your guild. They kept you alive, and no one else would.

I was hardly able to move myself, probably no better off than Ethan. Hunter was trying to coax Brook to stand. I slowly rolled onto my stomach and, ever so gently, put my weight on my arms. They groaned in protest, shaking, lost in the numbing cold. My breath came in short gasps that spun away from my mouth in the form of mist. We could not last like this much longer.

At last, our savior came.

"Daughter! When did you come up? I did not see you among the others…!"

Hunter smiled weakly up at Kronos, holding Brook up with one arm. "Hey, Dad," she croaked.

"Look at you," he muttered, kneeling in front of her. "You're a mess. You're going to freeze to death like that."

"Oh, r-r-really? I… I d-didn't n-notice."

He turned aside, scanning the nearby demigods. "You! Lauren! Your father is Apollo, correct?"

I recognized a demigod who had walked past us several times and not wasted a second glance. "Yes, my lord?"

He waved to Hunter, then me and Brook. "Tend to them. Now. That's an order; if so much as one does not make it, I will have your head. Am I clear?"

"Yes, my lord," she murmured, and rushed forward to kneel on Hunter's other side.

Kronos was about to leave, but caught sight of Ethan as he did. He frowned. "Nakamura?"

"…Yes?" Ethan rasped, voice like a whisper.

"Lauren, tend to that one, too. It'd be a pity to lose him." Then he stood and left, shouting orders at others to get a replacement ramp from who-knows-where and allow the rest of the army to cross.

I'm not sure about the rest. All I know (and only because I woke in the same place earlier) is that, whenever Lauren was done or maybe even before, I fell asleep. We all did, actually. Ethan, Hunter, Brook, and I, curled up around one another, each satisfied with just the other three and not a single other care in the entire world. That night, nothing mattered more to us than one another. Not the war, not revenge on Olympus, not fear of Kronos, not an argument, not training, not even the other demigods, both dead and alive.

Not a single thing.

oOo

**Nyx: YAY!**

**Nic: Next week; Betrayals, complete shockers, explosions, and the reappearance of an old friend….**

**Nyx: As always, please review! Tell us what you think! Don't be shy! **

**Nic: Let us know about the battle scene and the aftermath. Good job? Did you get into it? Did you like the plot for it? Don't be afraid to tell us anything!**

**Nyx: OOOH! HAPPEH SPRING! *starts flapping arms as if attempting to fly***

**Nic: … Is that your Jason Grace impersonation?**

**Nyx: Nope! I's just excited!**

**Nic: Hm… I can tell….**

11


	32. Stand Your Ground

**DISCLAIMER: We do not own PJatO. Nor HoO. Rick Riordan does.**

oOo

I was woken by a warm feeling on my skin. I shifted, experimenting with stiff limbs. My hair fell in my face, and it burned on my nose - it had been heated, soaking up light...

My eyes snapped open. Sunlight.

I stared up at the sky. It was a clear, blue expanse, unhindered by city skyscrapers or towers of black marble or a massive slab of Stygian iron. Thin clouds were whipped up by some strange wind miles above that I didn't feel. The sun was a bright, shining disk, proud and unopposed. The ground beneath me, also warm from its bath of light, seemed to sway back and forth. Nearby, I heard the sound of waves.

For a moment, I had no idea where I was.

I turned to look at the wall I'd been slumped next to. As I did, my arm caught on something. I looked down - and there, lying on top of my hand, was Hunter's head. Tangled in her legs was Brook, brunet curls sprawled out in the brilliant light, shining in a way that revealed the small amount red interwoven in their midst. Between Hunter and I, head resting on her waist, was Ethan.

My first thought was dread. What on earth had gone down last night?

I stared up at the sun again when it hit me. I gasped and wrenched myself from the pile and darted over to the ship's railing, clutching the buring metal as tightly as I dared and staring out over the sea.

That's all I saw. Dark blue waves and white froth and light, light sky as far as the eye could see.

No more Mount Othrys, sitting on top of Mount Tam. No more black marble and Black Wall and dorm dining hall and training clearing. Gone.

I turned my gaze back to my family. They still slept, still as rocks. The battle, or at least after Lauren's treatment, hadn't left too many scratches. Their complexions were their respective colors, there were no large, angry red slashes in deadly places. They were just tired; otherwise I'm sure I'd probably have woken them by now.

A heavy sigh escaped me and I turned back to the sea, staring at our wake. We had left Mount Othrys in good hands - those of Krios and, unless he was needed in Manhattan, Isthmus. And a few legions of monsters and demigods. It'd be safe, I told myself. I would see it again.

"Looking for something?"

I jumped, almost falling over the railing. A strong hand grabbed my arm and pulled me back. I shuddered at the cold touch and yanked free. The image of bright turquoise eyes lit in my mind, the schwatka symbol behind those, and a bitter taste worse than death bathed my tongue. I could not bring myself to meet his eyes. Knowing what he'd done, and knowing I was now just as guilty as he was.

Because I was, if you thought about it. I was a demon. I was my brother.

I grit my teeth and stomped my foot. No. No, I was not like Nico. I would prove that. I was not like Kronos. Neither of them - I was no cold-blooded demon, no sadistic murderer. I had let myself believe it for so long... But I was going to put an end to that. I would no longer be a slave to a supposed future. I never had before, had I? Back in school when the teachers told me I was going to end up working at a fast food joint all my life?

"Answer me when I speak, girl."

I swallowed thickly. "Yes, Lord Kronos. I... I was thinking of Mount Othrys." I could never admit to him that I now saw that palace as my home.

I saw his shadow nod. "Are you worried?"

He sounded so concerned, I almost told him everything. Yes, I was very worried. I had not left any friends behind, not even Herald, but I was scared out of my mind that when we returned, victorious of course, we'd find not but ashes... "Yes, blondie."

"Don't be."

"Those were Romans we fought last night, right? Older Roman demigod vertans? The majority of them were taller than me. And I'd know that fighting style everywhere."

He was quiet for a moment. "...Yes. That's exactly what they were."

"Are they going to attack Mount Tam?"

"It seems that is the Twelfth Legion's plans, yes," he confirmed, staring out into the sea with sharp golden eyes. "They will wait until the same time we will when we attack Manhattan. They hope to destroy my palace and, through that, crumble me before I reach Olympus."

I stared at him, feeling sick. "Will the forces there last?"

"We intend to pull more of them out of Mount Othrys when we reach a temporary base in New York City, but yes, they will still last. Do not doubt my ability in war, girl. I have been planning this for more years than you can count."

"I'm sorry, my lord," I sighed, staring at my feet. "And the Greeks?"

"They hope to kill me - ha, kill a Titan - and crumble Mount Othrys with my very banishment to Tartarus. They are coordinating with the Romans without even knowing of their existence. One of the greatest phenomena of our world, if you ask me. It's quite amazing to see the way armies come together. The ways they stand. War is an art, a craft, and you learn to enjoy watching it."

"Oh," I said. "...Oh."

He didn't say that you learn to appreciate your enemy's effort. He didn't say that you should respect your enemy. He said it was fun to watch both sides slaughter one another.

I sallowed thickly. The aftertaste of death was on my tongue. I decided to take a risk, seeing as he knew the most about my kind, as old as he was. And this wasn't about morals or ethics or lack of thereof; just statistics and simple facts. "Lord Kronos... Do you know if... If death...?"

"Helps you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "What, did you think your siblings had no reason at all for what they did? No creditable reason, but a reason. Most atrocities are like that."

Ach... Crud. I grit my teeth and shook my head. No. No, that wasn't me. I had done nothing.

"To answer your question, yes, it helps you. You have more than just a sixth sense - you have several, all set to detect death, spirits, and undead in dozens of different ways. You even have a mental connection to many dead and undead. That is what supplies you with strength when one, particuarly in their moment of death, is nearby. Not so much as Thanatos the god of death himself, but the act of him taking someone away. You feed off death. Not Death, with a capital d, but death. You feed off death. Do you understand?"

I nodded, swallowing thickly and thinking back to the night before. When each last breath had sent energy bursting through my veins. "Yes. Yes, I understand."

oOo

"This it?" Hunter asked, staring at our room. The number was now 003. A strange echo of our room on Mount Othrys.

"This would be it," I confirmed. "Ethan said this one would be ours to share."

She shrugged and popped the door open - there were no locks, for we did not fear any creature a lock could stop - and stepped in boldly. It was simple; a carpet, two beds, a couch, a window, a bathroom, and a small corner with a counter and a microwave and a minifridge that'd serve as a kitchen. That was it.

"No more eating with monsters?" Brook asked hopefully.

"Nope," Hunter confirmed. I watched them both as they moved, as they were surely watching me - checking one another for limps or other effects of the fight the night before. Luckily I saw none.

"Who gets the couch first?" I asked, knowing we'd be on a rotation schedule.

"Great question. How about you answer it?" Hunter laughed, sitting on a bed. I chuckled and moved to the porthole, staring out at the sea and deck below. We were in on one of the upper floors, like most demigods.

It had been two hours since I'd woken. My usual seasickness had yet to rear its head, so I was trying to enjoy the peace while I could. It was strange, feeling the boat pitch beneath my feet. When it didn't cause my stomach to pitch, too, it was almost a calming effect.

"Hey. Settled in?"

We turned, knowing who we'd see. Ethan leaned against the doorframe, a small smile on his face. He must've already found his own room. He and Kyle were still bunking together - for the sake of simplicity, rooming arrangements had not been redone - and, thankfully, they had both survived the night.

Hunter smiled back at him. "I guess so. How long until...?"

"Well, we're not rushing into it," Ethan sighed. "We'll take our time getting there, and arrive at the beginning of August. Then we'll hang out around the area, do some scouting, a little spying, and make battle plans. Or, more accurately, finish the ones we've started." He limped forward, cradling his side, and sat on the empty bed. "There's a training platform here on the ship. Kronos doesn't want us slacking off during the ride. Bree, Brook, you two need to meet me there at dawn tomorrow. Hunter, Kronos wanted you to report to his room. The captain's cabin, I think it's called."

"You got a map?"

"No."

"Can you give me directions?"

"Um..."

"Very prepared, sensei," she snickered.

"As are you," he replied evenly. "He's your father, and your mentor; you should know him and his status better than I do."

I chuckled. Few would stand up to Hunter like that, and I admired him for it.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Yeah, well, I don't. Put up with it. Now let's go hunt down some dinner!"

As we went, Ethan asked, "You guys know what our spy at Camp Half-Blood reported?"

Hunter nodded much more than necessary. I sighed - of course I had heard nothing on this. "Yeah!" Brook answered.

"You have teleportation charms? Kronos was having a bunch made so we could escape."

"Care to explain what we're escaping?" I asked.

He frowned at something in the distance, as if suddenly unsure of the density of the ground he stood on. "They plan to sneak in and bomb the ship."

"Oh, thanks for _telling me! _ I don't need a charm, though, I guess..."

He raised an eyebrow at me. I assumed my expression was funny, because he was biting his tongue. "No, I guess you don't. We're heading for the Jersey shore. There's an abandoned shop there that we're going to use as base. If the ship is in trouble, head there. That's where the teleportation charms are set to."

"Have you guys gotten yours yet?" I asked, glancing nervously at the walls. We were entering unknown territory.

"Well, not to doubt your wicked freaky shadow thing," (which made me feel kinda proud to leave that impression, then guilty as I remembered what I was supposed to be) "but I already got a charm. In case we get separated. And of course I got Brook's first."

Brook giggled and grabbed her hand, swaying on her arm lightly as we walked. Ethan and I smiled at her. She winked at me, then stuck her tongue out at him, which made us laugh.

"I'm assuming your silence, Ethan, means you don't have one?" Hunter sighed.

"I'm getting one tomorrow," he said. "Everything's already been arranged."

"Oh? And if they blew up the ship tonight?"

"Then you three will continue to be followed, berated, and trained by a very angry ghost. You are stuck with me, I'm afraid."

"Us? Stuck with you? I thought it was vice versa."

He chuckled, averting his gaze. But he made no move to deny it.

oOo

The ocean is big.

Dark blue-green waves with untellable depths, surging with white foam, everywhere. The mighty Pacific hid many things from me, I'm sure. But of what it did show me, its surface, there was too much to comprehend.

Our trip was indeed set to last a month. We would arrive, at the latest, in the New York Bay on August fifth. We had plenty of time.

Unfortunately, the boat did not cooperate with my stomach for long.

Most of my days I spent near the bathroom and refusing to eat much more than soup, usually accompanied by ginger ale. During training, Brook, Ethan and I worked near a trashcan.

Days I spent with Kronos, though, I made sure to take enough ginger ale to keep my meals down and did everything I could to hide any sign that I felt unwell. I learned a lot during those sessions.

"The sea, I understand, is not your strength," Kronos told me that first day. "But we will learn what we can."

It was more tactics. More sly tricks. More about my kind's sick past. Once he called me his little Nazi. It was the only time I dared talk back to him, but he took it as if I'd just politely asked, and quit using that title.

"After all," he sighed, "you aren't skilled enough to have such a rank."

And then he told me that he intended to change that.

He always seemed disappointed with me. I wasn't enough. I wasn't perfect. He always, always pressed me towards more. "You are _better _than this, you cowardly little wretch! Again! And please, do _try _this time!"

Though usually, I wondered if he really was frustrated. When he was mad, he tended to fall back onto slang he picked up from Hunter. I knew he was yelling just to push me further. He was urging me into his image of perfection.

My training, and my success, actually came out more during my training with Ethan. I now won almost every match. My tactics, constantly becoming stranger and stranger to him, were difficult for him to work with. Both because of my sword, their design, and my delicate practice. "Your balance is amazing." He told me that was my biggest gain from this training. "And you're much calmer now."

Kronos taught me to slip past his guard. He taught me to disregard the sword. He showed me how to pin him against the wall and press a dagger to his throat. He taught me to overwhelm him with shadows and cut him down as fast as I could. War was an art, he had said. So were assassinations. He pressed me into becoming the best artist I could be.

When I asked who he wanted me to kill, he just chuckled and shook his head. "You are not ready yet. With luck, we won't have use of these skills I am teaching you now. But even once we win this war, there is a task I will need you to complete, and you'll need these lessons to back you up."

I learned not to care for the enemy. They were not something to fear. I was to remain confident, in control, openly dominant. Overbearing. I was the predator.

The shadows began to whisper of the same things. They told once more of their dreams for overtaking the sun. They would hitch a ride with me to glory. They wanted world dominance, too. They knew that we were better. They knew we deserved more than this...

But how could I trust that? How could I trust anything? How did I know what was safe? What would turn me into what I wanted to be, and what would turn me into my brother's double?

Mexico passed by without much more drama.

oOo

We were crossing the Panama Canal when I couldn't take it anymore.

I had been sick all afternoon, sitting out most of our training session with Ethan. I was in a bad mood. Two days before, Kronos had taught me how to sever someone's heart, spine, and lungs with one blow to the back. And he'd schooled me on poisons, gaseous and liquid and solid. Which didn't help much.

"You want help with that?" Hunter asked as she entered our sleeping quarters, glancing over my shoulder at the sheet of Latin I was trying to translate.

I scowled, angry she had the nerve to interfere with what was my task. "No. Leave me alone."

"Who peed in your Cheerios?"

"You did! Leave me alone!"

"And why would I do that?" she laughed, plopping down on the bed to my right. "Let me help, you idiot."

"I don't want your help."

"Oh, it's not cheating. I won't give spoilers, I promise."

"No, I don't want _your _help! Go get Brook or leave me alone!"

Something dangerous stirred beneath the surface of those golden eyes. "I'm sorry, is there something you want to talk about?"

"Yes, but it's not something you want to."

"Don't make assumptions," she growled. "What's on your mind?"

I sighed. "You would know if you'd open your mind just a little bit."

"Damnit, Bree, open your own! Tell me what's wrong!"

I shoved the paper and pencil aside. "I want out of here."

"Bree, you know we don't have a choice. How else are we going to get to Manhattan?" I could see in her eyes, though, that she had understood me perfectly clear.

"No. I want out of here. Away from _him."_

"Bree-"

"No! Listen to me! He's not who you think he is!"

"I told you to quit making assumptions."

"I'm not! He told me himself he finds pleasure in watching people kill one another! He's training _me _how to kill people! You've seen what he does to those who don't subordinate! Even if he had nothing to do with that Hecate kid, there's still so much..."

But I knew. I read the hard look in her eyes, and I knew I had lost her. "Do not," she spat coldly, "tell me what I know and what I don't. You have no idea."

"Well, I'm not asking you to hide anything, am I?"

"You are. For your sanity, you are. Why is it so hard for you to trust me?"

"Why is it hard for _you _to trust _me?!" _I howled, leaping to my feet. "What evidence do you have? None!"

"Are we still alive? Yes. Has he hurt any of us? No. Has he hurt innocent people? No. Is he trying to save the world? Yes. Does he have a righteous cause for waging war? Yes. There's your stupid proof." She glowered at me with dark, narrowed eyes and bared teeth.

"It's not enough," I scowled. "It's not, okay? Can you listen to me?"

"What do you want to say?!" she spat, towering over me. "Tell me! What do you want me to do?!"

"I want to leave! I want to get off this ship and run off somewhere and get the hell away from him! I don't want a part in what he's doing, Hunter! I don't want to end up at his level!"

"His level?! Are you a coward?! It's a war, Bree! Are you telling me you don't want to fight?"

"I'm telling you I don't want to fight for a man with questionable motives. Do you even know what he's planning to do once the Olympians are gone? Whether you follow or not, I'm getting off this hellbound ship! Follow if you want, stay if you don't, and know I won't _ever _regret it!"

"What?!"

We both froze, trapped in ice. Nothing hurt more than that voice did.

"You're lying!" Brook yelled. A pillow flew past my face. "Bree, you're lying!"

I couldn't speak. I was shocked. When I'd said it, I hadn't been. I'd been so full of fire... So sure... But that fire was long gone now. How could I tell her that? How could I say... How could I admit I'd even considered leaving...?

A horrible sound came from her direction. Footsteps disappeared down the hall.

"Brook, wait!" Hunter cried, following in a heartbeat. Her form blurred with time magic.

Silence.

I stood there, staring at my scattered homework, wondering what in the world I'd done. How could I have... I hadn't known she was listening, but did that change anything? What kind of a monster was I?

I choked. Monster. That's what I was, wasn't it? I really was doomed to end up like my brother...

Behind me, someone clearered their throat. His voice was steely. "Are you," he drawled, "really thinking of leaving?"

"...Ethan..."

"_Are you?!"_

"It crossed my mind!"

He stormed forward, such fury in his jade eye that I found it hard to stare at his face. His hand shot out and clamped down on my right shoulder painfully. I cried out. I had not expected him to touch me, much less be so rough. His blazing eye met mine. "Don't you ever let it cross your mind again, understand?"

"Ethan...?!"

"I'm not kidding! What on earth were you thinking?!"

"I didn't mean to hurt her-"

"That's not what I'm talking about! Have you forgotten what you fight for?!"

"No!" I cried. "I haven't, I swear! I just-"

"Then look at me. Bree, look. I only have one eye, don't I? Well? Answer!"

"One eye!" I yelped, trying to pry his fingers off. Instead, they tightened.

"Right. That's right. I'm missing an eye because I _gave it up_ for this chance! Saving the world and righting the wrongs is worth it, you understand?!"

"Ethan, let go - that hurts-"

"It all hurts! Yes, this might not be the ideal place. Kronos might not be the noble leader you imagined. But don't you _ever _think about running. This chance... To fix everything... It's worth fighting under Kronos, no matter what doubts you have, okay? You can fight with Hunter if you want. You can fight with me. Just promise me you won't leave. Promise me you won't try to run."

I stared, shocked, my arm throbbing in protest. "What... Ethan, what do you...?"

"Don't stand there like an idiot! I trained you better than that!" His mouth twisted downward in the kind of grimace not even Kronos made.

"I promise!" I yelped, crying out as he shook me again. My arm was surely going to bruise. "I promise! I won't run! Not alone, at least! I'll take them with me!"

"No! Don't run at all, you understand? Don't run."

"I won't run," I said. I wasn't sure if it was a lie. I was prepared to break that promise if it put Brook's life on the line. "I won't run, I promise. Not at all."

He scowled, knowing I had complied too easy. "I am not kidding, Bree. You'll regret it if you desert. Don't think different. Don't even try."

"I promise, Ethan," I rasped, turning my gaze away. I couldn't stand the look in his eye. There was blind fury there, but I had the eerie feeling that there was something more. Yet I knew better than to ask him to explain.

His fingers loosened, letting blood into my hand and fingers again. "...Good. Good."

Then he turned and left, leaving me to stare after him. After a few seconds of fruitless pondering, I ran out into the hall, slammed the door behind me, and started the search for my sisters.

oOo

**Nic: Hello, readers!**

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	33. Betrayed

**DISCLAIMER: Once again, Rick Riordan owns PJatO and HoO. We do not. And we're kind of glad, too, because it'd be pretty sad to miss out on Rick Riordan's awesome writing.**

oOo

So many days I spent wrapped in my anger. And when I was angry, I was unstable. I have this habit of crying when I'm mad. Though this time, I don't think that's why. It felt like someone was trying to tear my chest apart.

So, upset and angry and with little else to do when not training, for neither of my sisters would speak to me, I turned to my sword.

It was happy to sit in my hands. I think the metal reacted to the touch of someone with Underworld magic. I know my fingers did to it. It, unlike the shadows, was strangely patient. I could feel it, almost like I could feel them - not quite thoughts, but...

Patient. Waiting. It would wait for me. Because once we were in action, it knew it had full reign. So was it really content to sit in my hands and do nothing more?

Yes. Yes, I legitimately think it was.

I stroked its surface, running from base to tip, with my fingers. It was cold, much like the Black Wall, but I knew it was compatible with my skin for a little while. I took advantage of that.

I dimly wondered if it had any relation to my brother's sword. Kronos claimed to have made this one. But... Did he really know how? Weren't our Underworld weapons a well-guarded secret? Did he find it and, maybe, modify it a bit? Or did he just hand it to me without changing it at all? Or did he kill a few people to learn those secrets and truly made it himself? Nico's sword could very well be the brother of mine.

During one of my training sessions with Kronos, when we were calling my opponent a 'target' and not an opponent, person, or being at all, he noted something. "Your sword works with you well. Do you like it?"

"Yes, my lord." I was rather proud of my sword.

"Nakamura told me that he explained the process of naming blades. Have you named it?"

"I've been playing with a few things. My native language, as a Roman demigod, is Latin. From Latin derived Spanish, French, Italian, and Portugese. In an effort to recreate Latin, those four languages were combined to create what we now call Romanian. Since mythologies are supposed to tie with the modern world, and I'm not really purely Roman, and I'm... I'm an Underworld child... I thought a Romanian name would do well."

"Ah. And your candidates?"

"Rău, întuneric, Ascuns, Radieră, Nenorocire..."

"Nenorocire? I like that one. Very fear-making."

"Terrifying," I corrected, "and I wasn't talking about my enemies."

"Why would your blade be your own misfortune? It is theirs."

How could I explain it to him? That I didn't want to be his assassin? That I didn't like what I did with my blade? So I evaded it and told him another truth; "I don't really like Nenorocire, anyway. It's not entirely true."

For I loved my blade too much to name it Bane.

"Ah. True, I guess... Which did you favor?"

"întuneric. Darkness, shadow, night. Things unique to my magic. Times when it works best. All very hard to catch... Fast... Deadly... And hard to beat."

"Is that a challenge, child?"

"I believe it is."

Training, I now found as a new way to relieve my anger. With Kronos or not. I began, despite myself and the way I loathed both myself and my blade for it later, to enjoy these unique lessons. After all, Ethan didn't teach this, and nobody else got to learn it.

The only conversation that happened between Hunter, Brook and I was about blade names.

"Did you name your weapons?" I asked.

Hunter was the first to answer. Her voice was an unforgiving monotone. "Not yet. Dad says it depends on how you feel about your weapon, whether it deserves a name. Is it a tool, or is it your fighting partner? Or, by naming it, you are trying to achieve a level of fame. For example, everyone knows Kronos's scythe is named Back Bitter. Everyone knows Percy's sword is Riptide. It's like a public icon."

"I thought it was silly at first," Brook sighed. "But my bow is... It's like my hunting partner. Though I don't think it needs a name to be that. It's just... my bow."

"Your sword?" Hunter asked, nodding towards it. "Dad told me that it was Nenorocire?"

"No, that was his suggestion. It's întuneric." The blade hummed happily at its name.

She nodded curtly. "Alright."

And that was the end of it.

oOo

Ethan was not a coward. He wasn't afraid...

No. He was very afraid. But he was not a coward; there was nothing he could do, anyway.

He had hoped it wouldn't happen again. But it looked like something that would continue to occur. Why did his life have to be so complicated?

Oh, right. He'd asked for it.

He grit his teeth as he ran, bolting down the corridors. But instead of what he'd done last time he'd seen, instead of hiding in his dorm with Kyle, he had a plan. He had something to do. The cold resolve in his throat and stomach was solid an unmoving.

There _was _something he could do. He could put a stop to this.

It went beyond what he'd seen two minutes ago, the same thing he'd seen the day he learned Kyle's name. This went deeper. There was a core problem here. This wasn't just a small family despute, or hardly a family despute at all. This was serious.

He had had his doubts about Kronos for ages. He had felt the Titan's hand snap across his face before. That was kind, compared to things he'd seen before. But he'd seen what happened to the Hecate kid. He'd seen Luke desperately fighting back. Luke, who was supposed to be dead. He had heard clips and bits of Kronos's plans for the future, once he had overthrown Olympus.

His missing eye was screaming. He was beginning to doubt that following Kronos was the destiny he'd bought. Was Kronos really going to save the world?

Could Kronos really restore the balance Ethan had worked so hard for?

He shook his head vigorously. No. He wasn't going to make any decision right now. He was just taking precautions.

A plan. Something to use if he did decide that Kronos was the wrong person to follow. Because if he did, trying to run away and desert would solve nothing, even if he succeeded. Kronos would still storm Olympus. Kronos would still win.

Besides, there was of course the real reason he had made Bree swear into staying, though it hadn't been what he'd told her - it was more likely that him or her or any escapee would end up captured and tortured. He knew that there was no escaping Kronos, better than anyone. Sometimes he hated being part of the Titan's inside circle.

That only left, of course, one option.

But to make any precaution, he needed supplies. He needed something made. No clever little trick was going to save him or the others.

At last he found the right room. The good part of being Kronos's favorite; you had access to all documents. Including the list of present demigods in their respective dorms.

He knocked once, waiting. This hallway was towards the edges of the complex. He shuddered; a cold night breeze was blowing from somewhere.

"Who is it?" someone called bitterly from inside.

"Ethan Nakamura, son of Nemesis!" Ethan called. "Let me in!"

"Heck no! Leave me alone, you yellow little suck-up!"

Ethan grit his teeth and tried to ignore that. "I will kick this door open."

"I will knock your head of your shoulders!"

Ethan sighed. "Make clear!"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me," Ethan muttered as he backed up, tucking in his arms and focusing on the door's hinges. If they knew the way he was feeling right then, not a soul would dare get in his way.

Kicking the door in was easy. He had mastered harder obstacles.

The demigod inside cussed and scrambled for cover as the door splintered and blew inward. Ethan scowled - he had splinters in his ankle - and stepped inside, carefully picking his was around the debris. His eye scanned the room and finally found its target, which was hiding on the other side of the single bed.

"What do you want?!" they yelled angrily. "You have no right to barge in here like that! You better watch your back for the next few days!"

"Easy, Herald," Ethan sighed. "You know that protection you asked me for a few months back?"

"You told me you didn't have it," Herald spat, adding in colorful language at the end.

"No, I don't. But I think I know of a way you and I could get it."

Herald slowly stood up, amber eyes glinting suspiciously. "...What do you have in mind?"

Ethan smirked and, from the holster under his windbreaker, drew the gun. Herald flinched. "Something stupid. You in?"

The corner of Herald's lip twitched upward. "Protection, you said? ...I think we have a deal."

oOo

"You'll have to teach me some of those moves," Ethan said as he pulled back, panting.

I stared at him, suddenly alarmed by the idea. "Trust me; you don't want to learn."

His fake smile disappeared. "Oh. Okay."

We were all kind of depressed. Ethan didn't like the stress between my sisters and I. He didn't know how to handle it, but I don't think he wanted to lose us, either.

On our way back to our dorms for dinner, he pulled me aside and hissed into my ear, "You still thinking about leaving?"

I shook my head. "No. Not after what you said. And how it hurt Brook."

He nodded once curtly. "Good."

I wanted so badly to demand to know what he was hiding, but bit my tongue and decided against it.

When my sisters and I were alone in the dorm, we usually ate in awkward silence. But today, Brook and Hunter made a show of happily conversing with one another while ignoring me.

A bitter taste filled my tongue. Whatever was trying to break my chest finally splitered my bones and punctured a lung. I dropped my fork into my microwaved spaghetti and, unable to leave that room, sat down on the floor so that my bed was between me and the two of them. I couldn't stand to be in their sight, but to walk out and leave them hurt more.

"...Bree?" Hunter asked.

Brook laughed at something. "It's okay, Bree. Come out."

"No, you guys go on. Don't mind me. I don't exist," I spat. "Nor do my opinions or thoughts."

"We were messing with you," Hunter said. The bed shook as she jumped onto it. Her fingers touched my head, pulling lightly on my hair. "Get back up here. You know we wouldn't really do that."

"Convince me."

"Well, for one, today we're _entitled _to mess with you. You know why?"

"No, I don't, actually."

"It's your birthday!"

I froze. My what?

"Count the days," Brook laughed. "It's August second! And we're nearing the New York Bay!"

I cocked my head back to stare at Hunter, giving her my best glower. "I hate you."

She laughed, understanding what I meant, and lent me a hand to help me up. I took it.

That night, they gave me the best present ever. We sat there and talked like everything was normal. Like we were demigods, like we were here, but as if there were no differences in opinions. Like we were all happy. We talked about Ethan, who had claimed he had something to do tonight but would be back in the morning, and about Kronos and the monsters and Herald and Brianna and Kyle and Mac, who had died in the battle for the ship, and about the Olympians and the Titans and Hecate and - gods save us all - politics. We laughed. We told jokes. We told stories. We made funny faces. It could have almost been any old day in our dorm at Pacific Academy.

"Do you remember the day we showed up here?" Hunter said at some point in the night.

Brook nodded, stifling a laugh. "Yeah. We were so paranoid. Don't you think, Bree?"

"Better safe than sorry," I decided. Of course, that was also what I told myself as I said it.

Hunter smiled and cocked her head to one side. "Remember our escape attempt?"

Now we were all laughing. "Did you ever apologize to Ethan for that?" Brook managed through her giggles.

Hunter pretended to consider that. "Hm... Let me tell you something, Brook; to apologize is to subordinate to someone else's will and to regret causing them any sort of inconvenience. I wouldn't be caught _dead _apologizing to anybody, let alone a subborn, self-centered, sharp-tongued teenage _boy."_

"Not one that talks back to you," I muttered, which resulted in a pillow being thrown in my face.

At one point, though, when we were quiet, I heard something going on in the background. It took me a minute to recognize. "Do I hear... music?"

"What, this?" Hunter asked, drawing something from her pocket. "Oh, it's just your present. No big deal."

In her hand was an iPod.

Brook smiled at me, a huge smile that said she couldn't contain herself. I was stunned to silence.

Hunter laughed. "Think fast!" And she tossed it.

Reflexes refined through training and battle snapped up and caught it for me. The smooth metal gleamed a dark purple. The screen was dimly lit, displaying the current song as _Boulevard of Broken Dreams_ by Green Day. The headphones flopped around, limp, white strings no thicker than a couple strands of yarn. I stared in amazement. "Where did...?"

She laughed at my expression. "Don't look so shell-shocked. I knew you'd wanted one, so I traded some things with Herald and Buddies Co. to get one. They gave me pieces. So I set out finding the missing ones and Dad, Brook, Ethan and I pieced it together."

"Are you freaking serious? You built it?"

"Yep! And I watched Dad to make sure he didn't implant it with explosives or something. I even got some of your favorite songs already. I think Ethan is addicted to Shinedown now, but oh well."

I laughed. Of course Ethan would like that group. It made such perfect sense, it was funny. Brook laughed, too, knowing them as well as I did.

I turned the little machine over in my hands, examining it carefully, using it a focus point for my eyes while my thougths whirled. An iPod... Hunter had noticed. That I missed music. Maybe she really wasn't trying to go against me.

"So? Do you like it?" Brook bounced, getting off the bed and leaping from foot to foot, her small hands around the one of mine that held the iPod.

I smiled at her. "Of course. ...Thanks, guys. A lot."

"Good," Hunter chuckled, moving to the minifridge and searching for rootbeer. "Now I can prove to Dad that I really don't suck at gift-giving."

Uh-oh. I sensed a funny story there. Managing to retain my laughter, I asked, "What happened?"

"Okay, look, it wasn't my fault! I thought he would like a big bag of wintergreen mints! Who doesn't?"

"What happened to Ricola?" I managed, biting my tongue to hide laughter.

"Well, now, I might not be smart, but I wouldn't commit _suicide..."_

That, of course, had all three of us laughing again. Now that I look back on it, it's a good thing my birthday was in early August; it gave us one last chance to laugh before the Battle of Manhattan, gave me the iPod that would keep me alive throughout the war and everything that would follow, it avoided a couple awkward days later in my life. But I'll get to that part later. One step at a time, that's how you travel, even when your destination is insanity.

oOo

A few nights later, for a strange reason I only learned a few hours later, I fell asleep rather quickly.

The strange buzzing noises that I now recognized as deaths, throughout America and throughout the world, always telling me of their presence, did not keep me awake. Nor did seasickness. I fell asleep within a matter of thirty minutes.

My dreams were strange, at the start. Something was pressing down on me, poking, prodding, searching for a way in. It was not hostile, nor friendly, just unpleasant. Frustrated. Unhappy. It did not like me, but that was not why it was there.

I fought to keep it out. No. No, I would not dream tonight. I would not wander. If I found the raven again, he had sworn he'd kill me. And I had a war to fight. I had someone to assassinate.

But they found a way in. They found a soft spot on my mind and attacked, breaking through barriers like they were thin as a water balloon, filling my mind with images and scents and sounds. Colors and odors and strange things on my skin burst into existence. At first it was a whirlwind - a flash of orange there, something warm and soft here, a cold moment of snow somewhere else. Then they seemed to calm down, to settle, carefully laying out the scene before me.

I hissed and looked around, peeved that my defenses had failed. The air was chilly, like Stygian iron particles were mixed in with the dust. Littered across the dusty ground were bones. The sky and air were that same, dull grey.

And, standing on a skull in front of me, was the raven.

I scowled at it. "What? What do you want? You tell me I'm not invited, then drag me down here anyway? You planning to kill me now?"

He growled at me, lowering his head, eyes glinting dangerously. "_Let me make something clear; I am not here for _you. _One toe out of line, I will not hesitate to remove your throat. I am doing you no favor, and I will not do it again. This is not for your benefit. It is purely for his. Am I clear?"_

I blinked, kind of shocked. "Whose?"

A growl echoed through the mist. "_If you want to find out, follow me. Do not stray. If you get lost, I won't _have _to kill you - you'll die anyway. And if you make one offensive move..."_ He let the angry tone trail off, rumbling in my chest.

"But why am I here?" I demanded as he began to turn.

He froze, dark saphire eyes locked on mine. "_Is it not obvious? I have found what you were looking for."_

Then he turned, extended his wings, those pretty wings with midnight feathers so beautifuly woven, and leapt into the air.

At last, he flew.

And he flew fast.

"Wait!" I called, lurching into a run. I did my best not to step on the bones, knowing he wouldn't like that. He just kept going, flapping his wings now and then, flying in a straight line with eyes focused somewhere up ahead that I could not see. Once again, I realized that he wasn't seeing the same scene that I was.

We ran for a long time, though I don't recall ever growing tired. He flew as if it were something he had always done, like this was nothing new, leaving me to follow in his shadow. The black feathers gleamed in the low light. I could see, even as far away as I was.

Then the land began to change. The mist grew thicker. The air dripped with moisture. The bones disappeared beneath my feet, leaving nothing but mist, which looked like it should but felt solid enough. Above me, the raven was nearly impossible to see. As if he knew this, he began to fly lower. The next time I looked down at my feet, they were eveloped in mist.

Then, rather suddenly, he said in a blunt, commanding tone, "_We're here."_

I slowed and looked around, kind of confused. There was nothing unique about this place. Just mist, mist, and more mist.

Then, in front of me, a shadow moved. It moved again. Then the raven flapped over to it, opened its wings to land - an achingly beautiful sight - and lowered itself onto the shadow's shoulder.

Shoulder. The shadow was a silhouette.

I frowned, stepping forward slowly. I swear, there was something familiar about them, but that was impossible. There was no one I knew that Nico cared about enough to help out. ...Right?

One more step closer, and color came into focus. And, standing out against the grey mist and dark hair, were two bright dots of dazzling turquoise.

The Hecate kid smiled at me, eyes right on mine. His form was half-transparent, flickering, strange points of light dancing like stars along his outline. His voice was a thin echo through the mist, much quieter than Nico's. "Bree."

"You... You... Oh, my gods! How did you... Where is...?"

The memory of a laugh echoed in my mind. "That's a bit complicated, you see. I can't explain, and Kronos refuses to. He's kept me from you for so long..."

"Kronos kept you?! For what? Why?! Is he hiding something?!"

The raven hissed.

The boy shook his head. "I can't tell you anything you don't know. I'm only here - the Ghost King only helps - so I can settle what you placed between us. You've worked yourself up so tightly over my death that I can't rest. I've been tortured for months, and I couldn't settle it with Kronos in the way."

"He's not in the way now?"

"_Not while I'm here," _the raven growled. _"That dirty, sly little son of a hellhound has no idea what I'm capable of in my own element. Nor do you, for that matter, so I advise you watch yourself while you're here."_

The Hecate kid nodded. "I don't have long, either, but it shouldn't be much more than a minute or two. Are you okay? Hunter and Brook still alive?"

I nodded. "Yes. We've missed you. I... I never caught your name..."

He shook his head. "I cannot say anything you don't know. Knowing my name would change what you do, in past, present, and future. What do you know of my death already?"

"I... I found this room, and..."

He cut me off with a wave of a starry hand. "I see. Look, I know you suspect Kronos. I know Hunter doesn't. But you both know there are secrets on Mount Othrys and the _Princess Andromeda. _If I set you onto them, you'll leave me alone. Or that's what the Ghost King says. Is that true?" I shrugged. Predicting the future was a job for an Oracle, and I was no high-and-holy mistress of fortune. "Do you promise?"

He sounded so pained. So torn. "I... I promise. I swear on the Styx."

The raven bobbed his head, satisfied. The Hecate kid closed his wonderous eyes.

"Well?"

They snapped open again, almost glowing. "Ask Ethan. He knows everything."

Ethan... what?

Something cold closed in around my throat. "No. No, I already asked him. He doesn't know anything."

A sad smile crossed his face. "He lies. Every day. Make him tell you. Please, put your mind to rest, because I can't stand this any longer."

"But-"

"But nothing. Ethan knows it all. Make him tell you, because I can't. This is bigger than you and I. There's so much more..."

To my utter shock, he began to fade.

"Wait!" I cried, leaping forward. "Don't go! Tell me what you mean!"

"Ask Ethan. He'll tell you everything if you make him, I'm sure..."

Then he vanished, leaving the raven hovering in his place.

I turned my gaze to Nico, furious. "Did you send him away?!"

"_I didn't. Don't think for a moment that I can change the laws of death, the dead, interactions between Dead and Living, or anything else. He has told you what he needed to; he is able to rest in peace now, and had no reason to stay, so therefore he faded back to where he is meant to be. It is settled now. We are done here. There is no further reason for you and I to be here, either. Do not invade my mind again, or else I will shoot first and ask questions later."_

Then he vanished, along with the mist and our shaky alliance, leaving me alone in a cold darkness that I had no name for. Just floating in something like black ice, wondering just where they had gone to, if they weren't here.

But something told me that they weren't coming back.

oOo

For a moment, there was silence. We all leaned closer to the small screen, wondering what Ciel Phantomhive would say next.

_"Woof."_

Which ended with chuckles and snorts and, from Brook, happy little giggles.

"Not many people have the courage to tease a demon like that," Ethan muttered as we quieted again.

I glanced at him, then looked away quickly, caught between guilt and an anxiety so strong I could hardly breathe. _Ask Ethan. He lies._

Or so I'd been told.

I scowled at myself. The Hecate kid had said he couldn't tell me anything I didn't know in the first place, right? So did I already suspect Ethan subconsciously, or was it false information, and the real information he wanted me to have was hidden from Nico somewhere in the rest of the conversation?

Ugh. Either way, Nico was the reason I had been able to speak with my fallen friend. And he only did that to aid, for whatever insane reason, an aguished dead person. And he was, after all, Hades's kid; on the part of the Hecate kid, there was no faking the way I had somehow tormented his ghost by letting my thoughts linger. And there was probably no lying about the cure, either, otherwise Nico would not have called me.

And, regardless the core of information, the way to fix this pain was to speak to Ethan. So I was stuck with it either way.

I had planned to do it tonight, catch him alone and demand to know everything, but it was hard. Tonight was our movie night. Sure, tonight, it was technically an anime series, but still. The reactions were the same; Brook, Hunter, Ethan, and Kyle were laughing and having a great night spent crowded on the room's floor staring at the small DVD player among friends. As time wore on I found it highly unlikely that Ethan would leave and give me the opportunity. And I lacked the courage to take him away from where he sat now with my own excuse.

Because he was smiling. He was laughing. I remembered the strong connection, so thick it might as well have been a solid rope, between him and I during the fight. Between all of us. The way I fell into the beat he set and we marched forward together and when he'd saved my life and when I had saved his. I heard him chuckle and, now, as Ciel's other servants did something funny and Hunter made a snide comment, a full-out laugh.

I was becoming aware of how close he was to us. How he mattered. I was glad for it. He was, like anyone in this world, irreplacable. And to take him from this scene where he was happy, in a place where I so rarely got to see him smile, physically hurt.

I had no right to take him from this. So I said nothing.

We watched two episodes, as Brook wasn't to watch but specific ones (she was allowed most of them, as after the Battle of the Labyrinth and the skirmish over the ship, animated violence felt insignificant) but they were two of my favorites. Hunter's, too. And as Ethan and Kyle were both glued to the screen, I assumed they liked it, too.

Though the last bit was hard to hear because we were laughing too hard. Demon or not, Sebastian Michaels was probably the best comic relief ever.

"_Reward..."_ he taunted the werewolf, who was smiling and seeming to enjoy his belly rub and forgotten all about his postponed dinner.

Then, of course, the red-eyed butler hit it and yelled, "_Punishment!"_ The poor wolf's eyes bugged out of its head. Ethan was face-down in his pillow, shoulders shaking with laughter. Kyle was hunched over and breathless.

Hunter was laughing, though I think at Ethan and not the show. Brook was howling. Me, I chuckled, but the news from the Hecate kid weighed heavily on my mind and supressed most of my hysterics. Though this, if nothing else, was helping to cheer me up. întuneric hummed happily in my pocket.

After the show was over, we were still laughing. None of us really wanted to leave, or shoo the others out (we were in Kyle and Ethan's room.) Instead, Kyle held out a shaking hand and through his laugher asked, "Hunter, could you pass the popcorn?"

She gave her classic smile, the I'm-hiding-a-knife-behind-my-back smile, and held out the box of popcorn. She waved it back and forth slowly. "Reward..."

"Hey!" Kyle yelped, lurching forward for it.

"PUNISHMENT!" Hunter bellowed, yanking the popcorn back. Shocked and underestimating her speed, Kyle's lunge ended with him falling face-down on the floor. She cackled with delight. "Good doggie!"

Kyle muttered a few choice words and pushed himself up. "I'll show you punishment!"

Ever been in a food fight, kids?

There was a squeal and a yelp and then the whole world was consumed by flying popcorn. It shot sideways like a pelting rain caught in a wind. I yelped as one kernal found its way down my shirt and leapt to my feet and dove for cover. Unfortunately, the only thing there was (Hunter had a very good position to shoot from) turned out to be the small DVD player and adjacent screen, which Brook was using to shield her face.

Ethan, who had decided to stop suffocating in his pillow, rolled aside and sprung to his feet right in front of the blond terrorist. Then, as if this was routine, swung the pillow around and struck her across the face.

She shrieked and yanked the pillow from his hands. He cursed and bolted across the room. With a war cry, she ran after him.

Brook, Kyle and I fell to our knees and watched through narrowed eyes and, in Brook's case, tears. We were all laughing now.

Yeah. The Hecate kid's news could wait a few hours.

oOo

**Nyx: Nico! 3**

**Nic: Oh, geez.**


	34. Heroes

**DISCLAIMER: Rick Riordan owns PJatO and HoO. We don't, nor have any intent to steal his work.**

oOo

That morning, Hunter messed up with her foundation again.

"Let me help!" Brook said eagerly, pulling Hunter's hand aside.

Immediately, she gasped and jerked her hand back, silver eyes wide in shock. "Hunter! What happened?"

Hunter sighed and shrugged. "I think it was the horsing around last night. Ethan hit me with a pillow there."

"What?" I asked, suddenly concerned. I crossed the room to where she stood and, sure enough, there was a soft bruise across her cheek. "Ethan did this? I saw him hit you... I didn't think it was that hard..."

"It wasn't," she said, shrugging. "He still had the remote in his pillow case. That's what did it." Then she went back to applying her makeup across the bruise ignoring the other places on her face.

I got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. _Ask Ethan. He lies._ Hunter's words came back, too, from that fight just after we'd boarded this death trap, when I'd insisted I wasn't asking her to hide anything. _You are. For your sanity, you are._

The sick feeling turned and twisted happily, like a small cat stretching in the sun, unsheathing its claws in delight. I did not like the way things were adding up.

oOo

Later that day, after dinner and just before the sun set, my seasickness and stress caught up with me again. I was in another mood. So, naturally, I shattered the peace we'd built not twenty-four hours ago over watching Black Butler and got into a fight with Hunter.

It wasn't until the end that I really began to lose it, though. It wasn't until then that Brook sat down between the beds, out of our sight, and refused to budge. That was also when Hunter left behind her loud yells and resorted to quieter, icier tones. Much like her father, her quiet angry was much worse than her louder one.

"How well do you really know him?!" I demanded. "There has to be something Kronos is hiding, and if he has to hide it, it's not good!"

"He hides nothing," she growled stiffly. "You hear the way he talks. He gives us everything, down to the last scrap of passion he has for this war. He would die for this cause. For his armies. What more do you want?"

"He would die for a cause but he would not die for _us! _ He's hiding something, I swear! It's not my fault he's blinded you to all that!"

"You're the one he's teaching to assassinate _targets," _she spat, using the degrading name for my opponents that Kronos liked to standardize. "If anyone's blind, it's you. You're the one he's leading away."

"He is? Then exactly! Why should you trust him?"

"Let me rephrase; you're the one following him more closely."

"What!? How does that work?!"

"Think about it long enough, and you'll see."

"At least admit that you can't be sure! You can't honestly trust every word he says!"

"You _can, _if you give it a _chance..."_

"GIVE IT A CHANCE?! Hunter, I have! For months! Who agreed to your terms to shut up and take it for so long? Who insisted she start training with Kronos in an effort to see your side of the story? Who emptied her mind time after time because _you _told her to?! I've tried! I have! And now I finally decided to take a damn chance and stand up! About time, too, if you ask me!"

"Look, now-"

"No! No, he's hiding something! And he's forcing Ethan into it, too!"

"Don't turn this around on-"

"On Ethan?! I'm not! Listen!"

"Ethan's just as lost as we are on the subject-"

"If I told you I had a dream where the Hecate kid came and told me different, would you believe me?"

She paused, giving me a look. "What?"

"Well, would you?"

"I'd find it a little strange. One, it could be faked-"

"Gods, you are so thick!"

"Thick? I'm sorry, but isn't it possible? Aren't there a few people that would like us to turn on one another? One that has been invading your dreams recently, in particular?"

"Nico couldn't have-"

"Well, he's the demon-kid, isn't he? Shouldn't it be easy for him to fake a conversation with a dead person?"

"Do you really think he'd risk me invading his dreams again if it wasn't a legit problem? He threatened to kill me last time!"

"Are you saying you trust Nico more than you trust Kronos?"

"At this point in time and on the subject of freaking _dead people,_ yes!"

"You won't believe how crazy you sound," she muttered.

_"Don't roll your eyes at me!"_

**"HEY! BREAK IT UP!"**

We both flinched, not because we'd been caught, but because when Ethan was angry like that his voice sounded like growling thunder. The door slammed shut behind me like a dash of lightning as he stormed in. "What the hell's the matter now?!"

His eye smoldered like liquid jasmine. He was ticked.

Hunter, being Hunter, stood at attention and pointed to me. "She has something to ask you."

I shot her a furious glance. "Not now!"

"Yes, now! Lead me, oh so very wise one. You said you were sick of it and were going to make a stand."

"_What _are you talking about?" Ethan snapped, teeth bared and hand on his sword.

I snapped my mouth shut, staring at him. If trying to confront a happy Ethan was hard, confronting the angry version was impossible.

He glared right back, a jade knife. "Speak up if you have something to say, or I'll assume you don't want to be heard."

I shuddered. Kronos had told me the exact same thing...

My teeth ground against one another, my eyes squeezed shut, my nails dug into my palms, and my heart raced like a startled rabbit. It was now or never.

_You said you were going to make a stand._

"I want to know. Everything. Right now."

"About?"

My eyes snapped open, suddenly furious myself. Cold anger, like dozens of hardened diamonds, settled somewhere inside. "About? About, Ethan? What, is there more than one subject you're keeping secret?"

A growl rumbled past his lips and he took a step back. "Secrets? You think I'd lie to you?"

"That's exactly what I think, whether it's because your in league or been threatened, you're hiding things for him! Honestly, how long did you think you could get away with it? It's not a subject people tend to forget or look over!"

"Hiding things? For Kronos?" Ethan growled.

"Bree," Brook warned from her hiding place.

But I wasn't about to let him slip away, like a sly little fish that'd been landed. He wouldn't answer to anything less than agression, either. Nor was I willing to give the traitor anything less. My throat like ice, I stepped forward, grabbed his shirt, and yanked him down to eye level. To my shock, he didn't fight back or resist or even yelp in shock.

"What," I spat, "was the dark-haired kid punished for?"

His eye glinted, now a hard, cold stone, glaring back at me. He didn't say a word.

"Bree, he doesn't know anything," Brook squeaked. A small hand landed on my arm.

"He does," I growled. "I can see it."

"Bree-"

"What other kids have Kronos tortured?!" I demanded, tightening my grip. His shirt threatened to rip under my nails. "And why the _hell _wouldn't you tell us?!"

I hadn't meant to let it, but my voice broke.

Ethan met my gaze, once more, with stony silence. But I could no longer read his thoughts. Slowly, as if we were having one of our conversations at dinner, he reached up and detached my hand from his shirt. I let him. Then he straightened, grabbed my wrist firmly but gently, turned, and led me to the door.

"Where are we going?" Hunter asked, immediately falling in on my heels.

Ethan let go of me to examine the lock. "Somewhere dangerous. Stay close."

"Can Brook come?" she asked smoothly, once more all too casual.

"No. This isn't the kind of business any of you should be messing with, let alone her."

My breath caught. So he had been hiding something.

"She'll stay here. This lock, look, it's got a trigger to turn on a magic setting. Brook, I'll set it off once we're outside. You wait here until we come back, alright? We'll knock to the rhythm of your favorite song. Don't let anyone else in, and if we're not back in an hour-"

_**Thud.**_

He cut off sharply and looked up, eye wide, as an arrow embedded itself in the door.

We turned, and there Brook stood, already another arrow strung and aimed. Her silver eye was trained on us. "I'm coming."

"No, you're not."

"Do not make me fire again, Ethan, because I'm not afraid to shoot you. I'm coming."

oOo

"Stay quiet, look around corners and in doors before crossing, and keep your weapons drawn," Ethan hissed, hardly loud enough for us to hear. And we were all crowded up next to him.

He was working on another lock. Above us, the ship creaked and groaned and puffed and grinded its parts against one another. The immense size was all the more impressive from here, where it felt like the world was pressing down on you. Forget the swaying of the waves - you couldn't feel it in the belly of the ship, and you had bigger problems overhead. That was plenty enough to make my stomach queasy.

Brook pressed against Hunter's side and with one hand reached for mine. Ethan noticed, but he also caught sight of her bow, so he ddn't say 'I told you so.'

"Now," he whispered, "I don't think anyone's here. Kronos had them all called up for some reason. But just to be safe. And, Brook, if we do find something, you are not venturing into rooms with us. I have to draw the line somewhere."

"Okay," she said, nodding vigorously.

He sighed and, at last, pushed the thick metal door open, revealing a long, dark corridor. More mechanic belches and squeaks came from down there. He held a finger to his lips, raised his sword that glowed softly in the low light, and crept forward.

I frowned at the blade. If that thing was drawn, forget being stealthy. People would know we were coming from meters away, the way it threw the shadows around.

Though yet again, who knew what normally happened down here. Perhaps random people with glowing swords walked through all the time.

Or, maybe, not so random.

Brook, for all the fear in her wide silver eyes, remained deathly silent.

"Why do you think Kronos called all the monster guards up?" Hunter hissed as we walked. I jumped at her voice.

Ethan shrugged and kept going, leading us on.

When we came to the first door, which had been too far back for Ethan's sword to illuminate from the start, it was wide open. He motioned for us to wait and peeked his head around the corner. Then he straighened and called us forward.

Together, we walked into the room. I caught my breath. It was bleak, just dull grey walls like the one back at Mount Othrys. Halfway to the back of the room, there was a line of vertical bars stretching from side to side.

A jail cell.

"Nobody's here," Ethan sighed. "Even when there's not someone to watch, they always have someone here. If there's no guard here, there's no guard anywhere down here. Something's up."

"Let's just get out of here before they come back," Hunter said, marching out of the room confidently. "Come on. We got a lot of other doors to check. And you, mister, still have some explaining to do."

"Well, what do you want me to say?" Ethan muttered as he followed. "Every castle has a dungeon."

Ha. What a funny way of putting it.

"Well, what lands a person down here, for one?" Hunter asked, crossing the hall. Another bleak room, this one lacking the jail cell. "This one's empty..." She moved on to the next. Ethan followed her with long strides, leaving Brook and I to follow.

"Lots of things. This is just the level of punishment Kronos doesn't advertise. The dark-haired Hecate kid? He tried to desert. Did you see the bag he had that night at dinner?"

The cold feeling in my stomach grew ever colder. Gods, now that made sense...

"Celeste ended up down here, too. For spying."

"She was spying?!" Brook gasped, flinching at the uncontrolled echo.

I stared at my feet. Hunter had told me about that a while ago. And I'd feared she'd be treated like this. But to learn it was true was something else.

"Sometimes a kid winds up down here for acts of spite. Herald almost did a couple times. I managed to talk Kronos out of it, though. I... I try, as often as I can, to save people from this. No matter what they've done."

"Really, now?" The words rolled off my tongue like pieces of hail. The diamonds had found themselves a freezer. "So you hid it for so long, yet claim to not be alright with it?"

"I'm not," he said quietly. "But to tell you guys... I know about this, because I'm close to Kronos in a business-like relationship. I was sworn to secrecy. I'd end up down here in chains if I spoke up. And so would you. That's why I kept quiet."

Kept quiet. "We were onto it already! Do you know what I've been through these past few months?!"

"Bree, I'm sorry-"

"'Sorry' doesn't cover it! These are _people, _Ethan! People! Friends! And you 'kept quiet' all this time?!"

"Bree, hush," Hunter hissed. "Nobody's here, but your voice can travel up."

"You didn't try to stop it?! You didn't tell anyone?! Don't you realize-"

"I do realize!" he cut me off, whirling around. "I have tried! And I've been alone, haven't I? Just like you? I'm _not _okay with it, and I've been doing what I can!"

"What you can. And what am I, Ethan? I wasn't a part of that?"

"No!"

"No?"

"No! Telling you three was _never _an option!"

"Ach! Stop yelling!" Brook muttered, drawing her bow again, which made us both shut up. "That's all you ever do these days! Yell and yell and yell! Cut it out and have a rational conversation for once, because you've made it clear that screaming at one another will get you nowhere!"

Ethan and I glanced at one another, then at her.

My eyes met his once again, dark jade glinting in the shadows, a dash of bronze where the light of his sword bounced off. And the cold, hard anger left me like I'd shot it out with a gun. Suddenly, I was aware of the walls pressing in, of the tons of moving steel overhead, of the trashing sea below. And at last I fully registered where we were, a source of torment and pain. And in front of me stood the boy who'd tried to put an end to it without puting his friends in danger. No, he couldn't have told us. I could see it now. The pain in his eye, as obvious as the sword's light. An angry gash. It had been there the day he made me swear never to leave, too. Oh, gods... Even then, he'd been trying to save us from this.

"I... I'm sorry."

He let out a ragged sigh and shook his head, staring at the floor. "...So am I. I know it wasn't something I had a right to hide. But..."

A hand appeared on his shoulder. He jumped and lifted his head to stare into Hunter's sharp golden eyes. "It's alright," she said. "We understand."

"And we're a team now," Brook said firmly. She lifted her bow, as if to shoot anyone who denied it. "We're in it together, and we're going to act like it. No one gets left behind."

"No one gets left behind," Ethan agreed, pulling free from Hunter. "Come on. Let's finish searching this place. If we find anyone alive, we'll take them out with us. I'll talk to Kronos tomorrow, and you three will come this time. Sound fair?" He poked his head into antoher room.

"Why talk? Why not just leave?" I asked.

"Look around," Ethan muttered. "You eager to try and run?"

"Well..."

"Besides, I know this is dark, but Kronos is fighting for what's right. You can't seriously stand by and not lift a finger to help as these armies work to topple Olympus. All we have to do is convince him that his... discipline methods need to be revised. Then we can continue fighting for a better world once and for all without feeling guilty."

He was talking too fast. I frowned, suddenly suspicious. But I bit my tongue and told myself that he wasn't lying. He had sworn to tell us everything.

Though I still didn't like staying.

"What guarantees the so-called peace he'll bring when - if- we win this war?" I pointed out.

He growled sharply, cutting me off. "One, we _will _win. Two, he can't do worse than the Olympians. He envisions a world where people and demigods can live in peace. And once he wins, those who deserted... What's to stop him from hunting them down and doing this?" He motioned around us as Hunter ducked out of another empty room. "And... And we can't leave. We're the only demigods who know about this. If we don't stop it, no one will. Would you leave Kyle and Brianna in a place like this?"

"We could take them with us-"

"No," Hunter said sternly. "He's right. Leaving doesn't solve anything. Nor does this mean Kronos is all bad. He's just... old-fashioned."

"As much as I hate this, and not that it excuses anything," Brook said, "but she's right. He's just following the order of things as they were when he was last... alive? Out of Tartarus? Whichever you want to call it. You get my point. It doesn't mean he's a sadistic, cruel dictator. He just doesn't know better."

A creature with cold claws skittered up my spine, making my shiver. _Doesn't know better._ Alarm bells were going off in my head at that. But I did not comment, for I knew what they meant.

"We'll fix this," Ethan whispered as we headed towards the last door. "I swear, guys, we'll fix it."

"Hope so," Hunter muttered as Ethan poked his head into the room. "Anything-"

He cut her off with a strangling sound, leaping back into us and pressing himself up against the wall. My breath caught in my throat and I rushed to follow his example, the others on our heels.

Hunter raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to one side. _What?_

He held a finger to his lips and peek around the corner. This time, he didn't jump or cry out. At last he pulled back, pressed his fingers to his lips, and said, "There's a body in there."

Brook yelped, clinging to Hunter's waist. The blond girl just put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed tightly.

My heart began to pound. I let my head fall back onto the metal wall. Dangit, I knew I should've asked sooner... Ach, how could I have let it slip? This was my fault. I should have known, if I waited to speak up, it'd be too late for someone...

"Maybe they're not dead," Hunter whispered. "Everybody down here left in a rush, right? Do you think, just maybe...?"

Ethan considered for a moment. Then, as if it were nothing but a strange bug, said, "Let's find out." And he disappeared into the room. We heard him call from inside, "Leave Brook out there."

"Don't leave me alone!" Brook yelped, lunging forward. "I'm going with you!"

"We need you to stand guard, sweetie," Hunter crooned, gently prying Brook's small fingers from her shirt. My heart lurched at the sight. Little wide-eyed, smiling Brook. She really shouldn't have come.

Brook nodded sullenly and turned away, watching the hall with the viligent eyes of a cat.

Hunter and I turned and left her there, bolting into the room.

It was small, and rather dull like the others. Ethan was crouched in a pool of sticky, half-dry blood on the other side. My training kicked in - a quick mental calculation came up with a total of about one and a half pints of it spilled. Not enough to kill.

As we reached Ethan, a small, pained sound escaped his throat. In front of him, curled on the ground, was a bloodied mass of arms and legs and long hair. From where I stood I could see their side rise and fall with each breath. Aside from that, they were still as a rock. I couldn't bring myself to look them in the face.

A sharp pain, more real than any knife or sword I'd felt, sliced through my chest at the sight. I turned away quickly, holding back something similar to a scream. My arms began to shake.

This was because of me. Because I didn't speak up in time.

Another pang of anguish cut through me as I realized Ethan must feel twice as bad. He'd known, not suspected or been warned but known, for over a year. And he was notified of every single person that wound up down here.

Perhaps, if he was blessed, he had become numb to it by now.

"You're right," Ethan told Hunter. "She's breathing."

"Then let's get her out of here," Hunter said. I heard her kneel down beside him.

"How?" he asked, not a challenge but an honest question. "People are going to notice..."

"We'll figure out something. You said the Mist could be controlled, right? The kind that makes things look normal for humans?"

"It works on demigods, yes, but-"

"But you don't known how it's controlled?"

"No, unfortunately not. You'd have to talk to Hecate's kids to get that one."

"I wonder if Hecate knows about this..."

"You know what? She probably does."

"Guys, do you hear something?" Brook called. We all fell silent. "Up above?"

Hunter, Ethan and I looked up. There was, if you listened, the quiet sound of shuffling footsteps.

"It's just the Telekhines. That's the engine room right above us," Ethan said. "We can hear them, but they can't hear us. This hall was designed that way, for obvious reasons." I swallowed thickly. "Hunter, that pack you brought. Are there bandages in it?"

"Yeah..." she answered.

I stole another glance behind me. Something was hauntingly familiar about the injured girl, but I didn't dare let my thoughts wander down that path. I turned away.

But, just then, a thundering noise came from above. Like footsteps storming on stairs. There was shuffling and a thud and lots of clattering, like the angry clatter of dry bones. Another chill ran up my spine.

"Guys," Brook warned.

Ethan was standing now, squinting at the ceiling as if he might see through it. His hand reached up subconsciously, brushing the necklace that held the teleportation charm. "...Weird..."

"You said it's odd that the guards aren't down here?" Hunter asked quietly.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I can't think of anything, though. Not unless they were all called up to lay that trap. The one to stop Percy and his friend from blowing up the ship. But we would've been ordered to be there, too, if that were the case..."

He trailed off into a frozen silence.

"Would we?" Brook asked. "I mean, Hunter and Bree were yelling, and you were coming to find us..."

"We might've missed it," Hunter said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her pale. "Oh, gods. We did, didn't we?"

"I think we did," Ethan muttered, quickly following with a few choice words.

"We have to get up there!" Brook yelled. "Come on!" And, without waiting for orders or asking permission, bolted down the hall.

"Brook, wait!" Ethan yelled, and shot after her on loping strides and legs. Hunter shot off like a bullet after him.

My breath caught in my throat and I whirled around, staring at the injured girl that still looked so familiar. Could we leave her here?

Though yet again, we had no choice. If we didn't go up there, or even if we did, there was a good chance the ship would blow up, anyway...

"Bree!" Hunter called.

I stared a little longer at the curtain of hair that hid her face. Then I turned and ran, sprinting as fast as I could. "I'm coming!"

As we hit the stairs, I finally managed to pin down the girl's name.

Brianna.

oOo

Ethan moved like he was flying. He disappeared up the stairs before Hunter, Brook and I had finished the first flight. We followed the best we could, but we lost him in a matter of seconds.

By the time we burst onto deck, my legs were burning, but we didn't stop. We shot out and around a corner and made our way for the pool, which was where the trap had been set. The tile just disappeared under our feet as we ran, faster than we ever had.

As we got closer, it became clearer and clearer that we were late.

The most obvious clue was a battle cry, a familiar voice raised and cutting through the air like a knife. He was mad.

"Don't touch him," Hunter hissed under her breath as we ran. "Try it and I'll kill you."

I wasn't sure who she was talking to, but after what we'd just seen, (which had brought my seasickness back quite quickly) I was surprised she still had the nerve to defend her father so fiercely.

At last, we burst into where the pool was, out under the bright stars and subject to the cold wind. I shivered and looked around. I could hear monsters jeering and Kronos laughing, but... The clearing was empty, save a small crowd of demigods and monsters to one side. But it was too small, and Kronos was not among them.

"Up there," Hunter hissed, pointing.

There, on the deck above the pool, stood Kronos with his scythe drawn. His back was to the railing and the edge, the sea thrashing angrily down below. In front of him stood a boy I recognized well - for it'd been drilled into our heads time and time again - Percy Jackson. His sword was lowered and he was hunched over, clutching his shoulder. Even from here I could see the crimson blood flowign between his fingers.

And, down here on the pool's level, stood two Liastrygonians. Between them was a tall, dark-skinned boy slumped and bleeding from several cuts. They stood apart from the crowd, front and center. Next to them, back straight and sword drawn as if he'd been there all along, was Ethan.

"Success, my lord!" he called. "We found him just as we were told."

I let out a ragged breath. Over the dark-skinned boy's shoulder was a slung bag, still full of its contents. We were safe. With luck, we could slip away and get Brianna out before the guards returned...

Just then, as Percy yelled in denial, Kronos's gaze met Hunter's. He knew we were here. Crud. We couldn't disappear until this was over, and even then, one of us would have to stay behind to make it look unsuspicious...

"We found him amidships, trying to sneak into the engine room," one of the giants said. His deep voice billowed through the air. "Can we eat him now?"

We were used to hearing this from monsters, but even from here, I could see a furious, panicked scowl cross Percy's face. My heart began to race again. A violent fire danced in those green eyes, sharp and furious and, if unleashed, deadly.

"Soon," Kronos said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He turned his scowl on Ethan. "Are you sure he didn't set the explosives?"

"He was heading _towards _the engine room, my lord."

That was right. We'd heard him. That's why Ethan had moved so fast...

"How do you know that?" Kronos said coolly. Alarm bells went off in my head again. _Watch your step, Ethan,_ I pleaded. _Please be careful..._

"Er..." Well, I guess he couldn't tell Kronos the truth. "He was heading in that direction. And he told us. His bag is still full of explosives."

"Open his bag," Kronos ordered, waving at the giants. My heart plummeted, because I knew exactly what that tone meant.

If Ethan went and got himself locked in that jail cell now, I would kill him myself. Both of them.

One of the giants took the bag, peered inside, then turned it upside down. People gasped and leapt back - doing that with bombs really wasn't a good idea - but, instead of jars filled with deadly Greek fire, tons of peach cans spilled out onto the floor.

Kronos glared, silent for a moment, not daring lose his control in front of Percy. He would in front of us, but one of our lessons came to mind.

_Stand straight, girl! Look as you wish to me, but to an enemy, you will appear flawless. Am I clear?_

_ Yes, sir. My lord. Uh, which...?_

_ Would someone flawless make that mistake?_

_ No, my lord._

_ Good._

"Did you," Kronos managed, icy fury showing through the cracks of his control, "perhaps, caputre this demigod near the galley?"

Ethan's face turned white as paste. "Um..."

_Dangit! You should've been more careful! _I bit my tongue to keep from screaming. The idiot... Didn't he know what he'd do to us if he let Kronos take him...?

"And did you, perhaps, actually send someone to CHECK THE ENGINE ROOM?!"

"Styx," Hunter cursed.

Ethan scrambled back, turning to run - to check the engine room, no doubt - and crashed straight into...

Into an upraised arm. The Liastrygonian was still shuffling through the peach cans. He wasn't holding their prisoner anymore. And it was that prisoner's arm that was raised...

"WAIT!" Brook screamed, catching on faster than any of us, and bolted forward.

Too late. Kronos was saying something quietly to Percy, but before anyone could react, the boy's sword flashed out and struck him in the chest. I froze, shocked and terrified, but the sword clattered harmlessly to the ground, not a drop of blood spilled. Percy Jackson shoved past him and, almost casual-like, leapt over the railing and into the sea.

"His watch!" Brook yelled. Without realizing it, I had followed her. All three of us were sprinting for where the crowd stood. "His watch is the detonator!"

Don't ask me how she knew, but she did. She must've seen something that we hadn't.

The crowd was panicking. Many broke off and ran, some for the engine room, some for cover. It wasn't until them that I noticed that, like me, none of the monsters wore charms.

But they couldn't shadow travel.

Ethan, by now, had caught on. He'd heard Brook's warning and, in a desperate attempt, lunged for the prisoner. His sword had been knocked away and one of his armor straps had come undone. He clung desperately to one of the prisoner's arms. But the other boy was bigger and stronger. Ethan was losing. The detonator watch glinted brightly in the starlight, like a flashing death sentence.

Hunter and Brook shot ahead of me, bolting to help. The prisoner's hands grew closer together... Closer...

Ethan howled and lunged again, throwing all his weight on the kid's arm. Hunter's form began to blur with magic. As it did, she tripped over something, cursing and stumbling. And then I was ahead of her, shooting past on flying feet.

The prisoner yelled angrily as more of our allies leapt for him. He jerked like mad, trying to free his left arm from Ethan. Dark fingers reached for his throat. Ethan cried out as the silver links of his teleportation charm slipped from his shirt and dazzled like liquid starlight.

The prisoner - one more demigod I will never know the name of - grunted and yanked his hand free. Beneath his figners, the charm shattered.

"Stop him!" Hunter yelled, suddenly beside me again, her own charm forgotten and flapping in the wind behind her. But around us, the other demigods had already grabbed their necklaces. They were disappearing into thin air.

The prisoner leapt to his feet, shoving Ethan and one of the giants aside. For one last second, the dark watch shone in the moonlight, like a glorious gem.

Then the boy closed his eyes and slammed his hand on the button.

oOo

**Nyx: Ooooh... CLIFFY! When I first read this in TLO, I wasn't sure if I should cheer or cry. Loved it.**

**Nic: Ditto. Rick Riordan writes really well.**

**Nyx: That he does. Else we would not be here.**

**Nic: True.**

**Nyx: Okay, so this is the third chapter today, right? In that case...**

**Nic: Thanks to all those who review! And those who read, for that matter. Where would we be without you?**

**Nyx: That's a good point. This week, we're asking about two things; Ethan and Kronos. As far as Ethan, he has made some sort of deal with Herald, and even after all this, he has hidden that and its cause from Bree, Hunter, and Brook. What do you think? What is this deal? Why hide it? For Kronos, some of you predicted he was innocent. Others had no clue. What do we think now that we know he's behind all of it? Does it excite or upset you? Let us know!**

**Nic: Of course, if there's something else you want to say, by all means go ahead! Don't be afraid to tell us anything!**

**Nyx: Next week we have more action... A little more Ethan... And some Kronos... And the Battle of Manhattan begins! Things are boiling down to the nitty-gritty stuff.**

**Nic: I can't believe you just said that. "Nitty-gritty."**

**Nyx: Eh... Sorry... My vocabulary is weird. But I like it. Ex; the word "defenstrate." **

**.**

**.**

**(Seriously, look it up. It's pretty funny.)**


	35. The Tank Man

**DISCLAIMER: We do not own PJatO or HoO. Rick Riordan does. He's pretty awesome at it, too.**

**That should be his new title. Riordan the Awesome. No… Give me a few days to figure that out. I want something with more of a ring to it….**

oOo

Things just seemed to snap into focus.

Ethan had trained me to keep a level mind. I had panicked, the first few times in a real fight, and I'd panicked during my first rumble as a demigod. But, as I had rediscovered during the Battle of the Labyrinth, I rarely lost my head in action. It was always afterwards that scared me…

The world seemed to lock into place, chaos suddenly making sense, every little detail crisp and recognized and in its rightful place. Time seemed to slow down. For a moment, I felt like Hunter or Kronos did when playing with time – that brief flash of control, that feeling of being faster, powerful, superior. The world faded to shadows and flickers of light, glowing souls, and yet each detail was still locked neatly in its place in the scene and comfortable in logic.

Beneath my feet, though, I felt something growing. A rumble in my chest, a ringing warning bell in my ears. A big force. A big light. Big heat.

To a cold, dark shadow, it felt like fire.

And it was getting closer. Fast.

I ran, eerily calm. I had to get out of here. I had to get my friends out with me. End of story.

I snatched Hunter from where she stood, yanking her into the shadows with me, and she caught on fast enough. She grabbed Brook as we sped past, faster than bullets. The drag weight in my chest and arms from using magic grew. And, as we charged for the edge of the ship, I used my other hand to yank Ethan along with us.

And we ran.

The world slipped by in brief colors. The fire behind me got faster – growing – blooming out like a poisonous flower. The burn got to the point of agony. Like I'd been nicked with Tartarus's fingernail.

Then there was the stress of carrying three people. It sucked my air away and felt like my limbs had turned to lead. Now that I knew what to look for, knew myself, knew my magic, I felt it draining me. It felt like I was losing blood. Like, cut-through-the-Jungular losing blood.

As soon as the fire at my back began to fade, I let the magic fall away. I gasped in shock as the ability to breathe came back, just for a moment, weightless in the air-

_WHOOM!_

It felt like I hit a wall, the harsh slap stinging my skin just about everywhere, like I'd fallen into a bunch of needles. Next came a quick, cold shock. So cold it sucked the air from my lungs again and turned my throat to ice. A heavy weight pressed down on me. The world had gone back to dark shadows and brief flashes. But they no longer made sense – they danced back and forth like butterflies in a dance, or like summer break, flashing and then gone and then back, twisting in odd and unexpected ways.

Tired as I was, the danger was not over. Though panic was beginning to sink in just a little. I lashed out, calling for help. As soon as my mouth opened, it was flooded with cold water. I slammed my jaw shut and clawed at the water, trying to make it stop moving. I had no idea which way was up.

But at last I twisted and saw the bright lights – the moon dancing on the surface. I kicked out, fighting a current, reaching desperately for the air just feet away. My lungs began to burn.

At last, I broke the surface.

I threw my head back and coughed, spitting water and choking on air.

Déjà vu, anyone?

Next to me, Hunter burst into existence among blooming white foam, yelling out in pure adrenaline. Her golden eyes were bright and wide, teeming with excitement. Her sharp-toothed grin was on her face. "Best – dive – EVER!"

For a moment, I was stunned, taken away by her words. Best dive Hunter'd ever been on? That's quite an achievement there. For Hunter had been the crazy girl in the parking lot who jumped off a semi-truck into a four-foot inflatable pool. Which had gotten us expelled, might I add.

You know, if anyone really cares why that Oregon school bailed on us…

Then, between Hunter and I, the surface erupted. Brook leapt a foot into the air, yelling wildly, flinging her arms out and coughing up water like Spit and Spat (long story about a fountain in upstate New York that Hunter _also _dived into.)

Hunter called her name above the rolling waves and swam forward, gripping her in a hug and holding them both above the surface. My tense muscles relaxed at the sight of them both.

But my mind was still on alert. It wasn't over yet…

Ethan! Crap!

I moved my arms awkwardly (I can swim and survive just fine in water… I just look a bit clumsy and slow…) until I was turned around, eyes scanning the dark waves. My eyesight was great in the dark, but it wasn't a cat's, so I might have missed something. But of what I could see, no damp, dark-haired head rose above the surface.

"Ethan?!" I yelled, but my voice was raspy and at first hardly heard. I gasped for breath, shivering in the icy water, and tried again. "Ethan!"

Behind me, Brook and Hunter forgot their happy reunion. "Did you bring him with us?" Hunter asked.

I nodded. "Positive. Ethan! Eeee-than!"

"Ethan!" Hunter's voice dropped to an imitation of her father's. "You will answer me when I speak to you, Nakamura!"

"Not funny," Brook muttered.

Then, quite literally out of nowhere, a harsh hacking sound exploded from off to my right. It was accented by sputters and sharp, half-finished gasps. I floundered in the waves, forcing my body to turn. And, sure enough, there was Ethan, head tipped back to keep his face out of the water. It lapped at his chin hungrily.

"Oh, for the love of the Styx!" Hunter muttered. "Please tell me you know how to swim."

"He does. It's the armor, stupid," Brook said.

"Then what are we standing here for?" Hunter asked, lurching forward with the help of another wave. Strange, they never seemed to work for me when I needed them. She rammed into Ethan, fingers tangling in his last shoulder strap. The small attachment feature slid off his arm entirely and I assume the whole breastplate slid off him and down into the deep Atlantic, because suddenly his body jerked upward and he wasn't quite so close to the waves anymore. Though he continued to sputter.

"That everyone?" Brook asked, looking around.

"That's all I brought," I confirmed. "Kinda hard to carry more."

Ethan coughed harshly and rasped, "Carry…?"

"Shadow travel," I explained, teeth starting to chatter. "I-I saw your charm sh-shatter and the detonator get hit a-and ran."

"Glad you grabbed us first," Hunter muttered.

Ethan shook the water from his eyes and, making me quite jealous, lost the edge of panic and began to tread water rather easily. "And you dumped us _here?"_ he snarled.

"Only as far as I had to," I muttered. "I d-didn't think about getting s-stranded."

"Stop harassing her," Hunter muttered, and thwacked him over the head. "She saved your life, dipStyx."

"I'm n-not so sure," I managed. "It's f-freezing out here."

"Well, drowning is supposed to be better than blowing up, right?"

A deathly silence, smothering as the thick scent of blood, settled over us. The lapping of the waves sounded loud an alien. The air lit up with a tension so alive it needed a birth certificate. The icy water grew all the colder.

"Brianna…" Brook murmured.

"There was nothing we could do," Ethan answered immediately, his voice soft as it always was when he spoke to her on hard subjects.

"We should've taken her with us! We were right there! Surely there was something-"

"She's right. We should've helped her first," Hunter said flatly, cutting Brook off.

Ethan shook his head and closed his eye. "I wish we did, but you have to be realistic. We h-had no choice. B-besides, she might've just died anyway. She looked p-pretty bad."

"It's not just her," I said, because right then the buzzing in my ears decided to make itself known. "I-I can hear… I can hear others…"

"None of the monsters had charms," Brook remembered quietly. "They… They're all…" And, to everyone's shock, the threat of tears shook her voice.

"Now, don't even try to insist we could've taken all of them," Ethan said sternly. "Forget it. Right now, we h-have to find l-land."

"Forget it, Ethan?"

"F-for now. D-drowning ourselves in spilled milk w-won't do us any good." The dim starlight glinted sharply off his hair, lighting silver streaks, a bright glimmer where his eye was. I could also see, if I squinted, his blue lips.

"Besides," Hunter said. "W-we know about what Kronos is doing now. We c-can talk to him about it and stop others f-from the same thing."

"That's the most we can do for her now. Plus the Hecate kid. An e-everyone else," Ethan added. He fell quiet for a moment, and I saw his eye flicker up to stare at the wide, cold, unforgiving sky. Even the starlight seemed to fall just short of useful.

There was movement to my right that I assumed was Hunter. "Right. D-does anybody see land?"

"Hunter, w-we're miles off shore," Brook rasped. A shallow gasp escaped her. "T-there's no land close enough to swim to in th-this temperature."

"So we're just going to sit here and freeze to death?" Hunter challenged.

It was supposed to spark motivation. Instead, it damned us all into another tense silence.

"M-maybe if we move we'll k-keep warm a little longer," I said, because moving around on a hot school bus had always been a bad idea. "S-someone will c-come for us."

"Who?" Ethan muttered. Man, I'm usually a pessimist, but in front of Brook I tried to do better and really hated realists. "N-nobody knows we're out here."

"Then we'll s-swim until we find something," Hunter said. "Ethan, which way is n-north?"

"Th-that way, I think."

"No, it's that way," Brook said, raising an arm out of the water and pointing. "See th-that star? North is over there. And we want to go west, so we sh-should head that way."

"Y-you're word's b-better than mine."

So we all started to swim in that general direction.

My limbs began to cramp from the cold, and so did my lungs, making it hard to breathe. And to keep my face above the surface. Five strokes after we started I was panting and, terrified of losing the others in such utter blackness, glanced around every two moments to find them. It was hard – I usually found them only by their rasped breathing.

"M-maybe land is a little f-far off," Hunter said eventually.

I knew that to rest and relax in this icy, unforgiving cold was suicide. But she hesitated, and my limbs were too tired to let the opportunity slip by. As soon as I went limp, everything went numb, and not only could I not feel the pain but lost all sensation in every single limb. My face had vanished ages ago.

I barely moved enough to tread water, small movements through my foggy, tired brain. Aside from that, my thoughts went back to the _Princess Andromeda._

People had died on that ship. Demigods, monsters. As had the prisoner who'd rigged and set off the bombs.

A shudder – one of many, identifiable because it came from within – rocked through me. So many lives lost was hard to forgive. And to give your own life to do it….

This was war. There was no going back.

"Bree? You still awake?"

"Yeah," I rasped.

Ethan sighed. "W-we can't last much longer. If we're going to t-try for land…"

He trailed off and didn't finish. We knew that we didn't stand a prayer.

"I hope Dad's okay," Hunter said quietly.

Brook, coaxed by that, felt the need to start a conversation. A normal one, where the obvious wasn't really obvious. "I'm c-cold."

"We all are, h-honey," Hunter crooned, teeth clattering like dry bones.

"Yeah so g-get over it," Ethan added. Then, after a moment, "…Yeah, I guess it's a pretty s-stupid way to die. Especially after a-all this time."

I closed my eyes, unable to speak, just nodding my agreement. I felt myself slide another two centimeters into the water.

Then, of course, Brook spoke again. She needed a conversation to stay comfortable. And who were we to deny her? "I-I don't like it here. I want to b-be back in our dorm. At least it'd b-be warm."

Warm. Such a foreign thought. But so welcome….

"Bree," Ethan started. I could hear his thoughts in his voice. "D-didn't you figure out h-how to heat blood?"

"It's supposed to be an offering of b-blood to coax ghosts into sp-speaking," I managed.

"But it w-worked on me when you tried it."

"I-it's hard to control and makes me tired. But if you th-think it'll work…"

"Try it. Try it now," he said, and he must have come closer, for suddenly he emerged from the darkness, shaking like a freshly landed arrow.

As soon as I closed my eyes again to concentrate, I knew it wasn't going to happen. The waves moved me too much, made sound, was too cold. It was hard for me to think. I did my best to shake them away, to remember the age-old ceremonies (or at least what I'd read of them) and the woven words of a delicate spell.

My lips moved, quiet, finding their own path. I let them lead, thinking about warm things, the sun on my hair and the cozy flames in my chest that started when my sisters and I shared a laugh. The cold water splashed over my shoulder, stealing my attention for a moment, but I grit my teeth and ignored it.

Warm, warm thoughts….

A strange tingling sensation began in my arm. I could feel the bright soul-lights again, one for each them and one for myself. I began to chant faster.

And, by some miracle, fire began to creep up my veins. Like a poison, or an additive drug. It spread like running water or the creeping shadows as the day grew old.

Somewhere ahead of me, Brook yelped in surprise. I ignored her and kept going.

I went until the cold didn't matter anymore. I didn't really feel it. It was abstract, far off, nothing but an illusion. Then I cut off the chant but, in my mind's eye, kept my focus on the little spots of light. It almost felt like small cords attaching us to one another, sharing the heat, tying them to my spell. I felt dead tired, but I could keep this up, just for a little while.

"…Warm things tend to float better, too," I heard Ethan note. The shake had vanished from his voice.

I looked at him and gasped in shock. He was, to put it simply, sitting with his legs crossed and hardly two inches of him sinking below the surface. Brook, to his left, was on her knees. Hunter was trying to be macho and stand up.

I looked around myself and, sure enough, I lay sprawled on my back against the waves, riding on top with eerie ease. The warmth pulsed again, making me shudder.

"Not really walking on water," Hunter muttered as she tumbled, splashing salt water everywhere. She resurfaced quick enough. "But still cool. I didn't know people could be so buoyant."

"Normal people can't," Brook beamed.

"Hey, look at the currents!" Ethan yelped. He reached down with one hand and let his fingers get tugged along by the waves. "They're dragging us west! The tides are going in! Do you know what that means?"

Hunter's face lit up. "Free ride?"

"Free ride."

oOo

We floated for a long while. Over time, the last of my energy dwindled. I had to lower our blood temperature to make the spell easier to hold. I always felt those three lights, like little pulses, different knots in my head where the headache liked to gather. It was hard work.

At last, Ethan, who sounded quite tired, slurred, "…That dark spot over there. You see it?"  
Brook, without waiting for an answer, drew her bow and fired an arrow into the night sky. With a muttered breath, the arrow caught fire, illuminating the dazzling sea. White light danced off the waves like drunk fairies.

"You realize," Ethan muttered, "that this close to Camp Half-Blood, you could have just given our position to the enemy?"

"Yeah, well, that's land for sure," Brook said, pointing. "Take it or leave it."

So we began to dog paddle.

The final edges of the spell dropped away and vanished as we reached the beach. The sand felt wet and grainy, kind of sharp, on my feet. The drag of the water was so little… I stood, feet sinking into the surf, dark forest of trees swinging by at an unhealthy angle. My legs turned to jelly and I fell back into the water. It got up my nose and in my throat, making me snort. I was too tired to care - I felt like I'd run a marathon.

"Come on," I heard Ethan rasp. "Up."

"Nt."

We dragged ourselves off the sand and into the grass, found a random tree, and collapsed at its roots. Shivering and soaking wet, huddled against one another for warmth (which probably saved our lives that night), we fell asleep.

oOo

I woke about twenty-four hours later. Magic was quite tiring. As was drowning. No wonder people sleep for eternity after it – they're too tired to be bothered.

I blinked and lifted my head, searching the area. In front of me was the end of grass and start of sand. Beyond that, the salty Atlantic ocean. Tangled at my back were Hunter and Brook. My gaze searched the sky and woods and beach until, at last, I found the missing person.

Forcing myself to my feet, I got up and walked over to where Ethan sat at the start of the sand. The stars were brilliant tonight, much brighter than they'd been before. He was staring off into the southern horizon, eye narrowed suspiciously. All traces of the horrors of the night before seemed to have vanished from his face.

I shuddered. People being tortured, people being killed. How could we not have spoken up? "…Ethan?"

"Hm?" he asked without lifting his gaze.

"…What are we going to do? About Kronos?"

"I've answered this before. We're going to talk to him," he said simply. "We're going to explain that it's wrong and too much like what those monsters do." He motioned sharply in the direction he was gazing.

I squinted and, sure enough, I could see another strip of land against the fractured waves. "Is that…"

"Camp Half-Blood? Yes, it is."

I was speechless.

"You see, despite Kronos's flaws, he's not in the wrong. He's not in the dark. Whatever his favorite punishment methods may be, he knows better than _them._ Than the Olympians." A man who didn't know true justice, better than the Olympians? Neither was the victor there, I thought. "They've suppressed us and the minor gods for thousands of years. They've raised us for the slaughter. For their amusement. Kronos might have a few anger management problems, but he could never be as bad as that."

There was a moment of silence as he went on. "Imagine that. Being part of a great race in history, the Olympian gods, and not having anything to do with them. Labeled one just because. Being shut out from every decision. Being used… That's what they did to my mother. It's part of what drove my father mad. Gods, no matter what Kronos does…" His voice sounded strained, stressed, like something heavy was pressing on it. Tears, I realized with shock. Ethan was near tears. "…It's time to end all this. Now."

I thought about that quietly for a moment. He had a valid point. And the way his voice sounded right then, I was ready to fall for every word. Some of my own passion began to spark. I remembered all the reasons I had not made good on my threats to leave – Hunter, Ethan, Brook. And, of course, what I fought for.

I didn't have any experience in this world. Not my own. But there was no doubting the living cause among everyone on Mount Othrys. The army's tense alliance. There was something worth fighting for there.

"…What happened to your dad, Ethan? Do all demigod parents go insane?" My mother came to mind.

He shook his head. "No, not all. Little Mr. Percy Jackson has a mom who loves him and a step dad who's willing to accept him for what he is," Ethan spat bitterly. "Another show of uneven treatment. There's so much misbalance in the world. That's what Nemesis is for, see – not just revenge. Not just violence. She stands for _balance._ And… And so do I. I kills me every day." He had grown awfully quiet again. I remembered, dully, the balanced and even beat he had when he fought.

"…Your dad, though?"

"My dad shot himself when I was seven. Took me to the park, like he always did. Held my right hand in his left, and in his right, he held a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. Right there in front of me and everyone else. I never found out why, although now I have a few guesses." He tore his gaze from the distant Camp Half-Blood and stared at his shoes. "I just don't know which is correct."

"Oh… I'm so sorry…"

"I don't want pity."

"Sorry."

He raised an eyebrow at me but didn't press it. Instead, he sighed and turned back to the water. "You don't want to leave, correct? You won't?"

"It seems I have a lot to stay for," I sighed.

"You do. Take it from me. It's something well worth fighting for. When… When my dad died, I was sent to Camp Half-Blood. But you know that story. I left, looking for my mom… I couldn't stand the injustice being done. The misbalance. I went to her asking for help."

Sudden realization dawned on me. "You went to her and asked for a way to fix it, didn't you? A way to help her restore balance?"

"Yes. I did." He was silent for a moment. "She gave me a fate and then, to make it even, stabbed my eye out. Not a bad trade, if you think about it. Saving the world, and all you had to give was an eye. Almost too good to be true."

I stared at him, at the way the stars reflected off his messy hair and the bridge of his nose. He was an ordinary guy, out to make more of himself. No, scratch that. He was a demigod. And demigods don't take anything, _anything _lying down.

He had taught me that. Why was it now, so late, that I was realizing why?

"Fate. A good fate. No, I guess it wasn't a bad deal," I sighed. "So long you don't give up, you'll have your name written in history books."

He scowled and shook his head vigorously. "No. That used to be what I wanted. The famous son of Nemesis who saved the world by restoring the balance that'd been sorely missed. Make a difference that people will _remember,_ that they won't go back on, that'll stay in place and save lives in the years to come, that story that touches them so deep it changes everything they do for the better…

"…But this past year, I realized something. Through you and Hunter and Brook, actually. I… I want a fate. I want to make a difference. That hasn't changed. But I'm wiser about it now. I don't want anyone to remember my name. What matters is what I do."

I turned to stare at him, now a little lost. "…What?"

"Look, does it really matter that my name is Ethan? It could be Joe. Or Leslie. Or Susan, for crying out loud. What matters is what I _do,_ the actions that I commit. Nobody needs to remember Ethan Nakamura. They just need to remember the kid that gave everything he could for this cause. Besides, people tend to remember the actions better, anyway."

"…They do?" I thought, remembering the name Benjamin Franklin from somewhere but having no idea what he'd done.

"Yes, they do. What was the Hecate kid's name, Bree?"

I fell silent.

"Didn't you mention that he wouldn't tell you his name, because it'd change the way you acted? Isn't that why you hurt over that so much? Don't you wish you knew his name, and that wish compel you to do something?"

"…I guess…"

"Think about it this way, too. If you had to memorize every casualty, by name, from the Vietnam War, would it be as interesting?"

"No, I guess not."

"In the recent century – decade, maybe, I don't know – there was a student protest at a college in China. They wanted the communist economy out and a capitalist in its place. In response, the government sent tanks and shot at them and ran them all over. Those tanks guarded that square for days. On the second or third day, a man was buy groceries, and walked past that square. Just an ordinary man. No deal with a goddess to achieve fate or fame, no missing eye, no demigod, no special powers. Just a normal human. And you know what he did?

"He saw a whole line of tanks coming down the road. So he walked up, two grocery bags in each hand, and stood right in front of them. That first tank stopped. Then the next. This huge line of massive, massive tanks. And he just stood there, straight-backed, in the middle of the street. They told him to move. He didn't. They tried to go around. He just moved in their way again. That whole line of tanks had to stop, just because of that one man.

"Then they inched forward, threatening to hit him. Eventually he began to climb on the tank. Two of his friends, scared to death he was going to get killed, eventually strode up, acted similar to police, and led the man away. But for a good five minutes, those tanks were delayed. By a random man. A video of it went viral and sparked inspiration not just in China but all over the globe. I've seen it myself. Everybody loves this man. And you know what?

"Not one person knows his name. They just call him 'Tank Man'."

I just stared, hanging on every word, each one sinking deep inside me to a place I hadn't ever been before. I was totally captured by him, lost in awe.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his jade eye. "Do me favor?"

I had to force my mouth to speak. "Anything."

"We're heading into war, so don't tell me this is irrational or stupid or refuse to do it, because it's perfectly reasonable. If I die, remember me. Tell someone else what I did. But don't ever tell a stranger my name. Don't tell my story and stick my name on there. And I'll do the same for you, and for Hunter, and for Brook. Exactly like that. Because whatever fate I traded my eye for, it's mine, it's been hard won, and I don't want it to be erased from time and from memory. Think about how sad that would be. But if I hid my name, think of what might happen… Do me another favor, and don't forget what I said tonight, either. I don't think I'll ever be so calm as to rethink my way through it again. Remind me from time to time. I think a lot of people should hear it, simply because they don't think it's true.

"To be nameless is to be unforgettable."

oOo

**Nyx: I AM SORRY I'M LATE!**

**Nic: Shut up! You sound like the rabbit off Alice in Wonderland!**

**Nyx: My internet is temporarily down. I have another computer I'm using to upload this. But that is not why I'm late; I had a very, very busy week and am writing the third chapter for this week RIGHT NOW. Going as fast as I can without being unsatisfactory. I decided to go ahead and upload the two finished chapters as to be as fair as possible to you readers.**

**Nic: You might want to wrap this up, then. Oh, and for those of you who don't know Tank Man, look him up. True story. Awesome guy. And we use a lot of references in this book… Many people might not understand. We don't own anything we reference and we are not trying to confuse you. Sorry if it was still a little weird, though.**

**Nyx: As far as the poll, I do not have time to check it right now, it will end today around noon and the results will be posted next week. Keep an eye out on our profile for the next poll! Not sure what it is yet, but I'll figure out something!**

**Nic: You're pretty good at fixing things last-minute, aren't you? You know, good because you do it so often?**

**Nyx: *Face down on desk* I'm as bad at this as Shigure…**

**.**

***Shigure is another reference. He is a novelist from the anime series Fruits Basket. Loves to torment his editor by missing deadlines.**


	36. Confidence

**DISCLAIMER: Rick Riordan the Radiant… No, no, now that sounds like Charlotte's Web, and very cheesy… Rick Riordan owns PJatO! Not us!**

oOo

"Do you think, maybe with nectar, that you could shadow travel again?"

I stared back at Hunter, Ethan, and Brook, five wide eyes of encouragement. "…With all of you?"

"Yes. Just to the Jersey border," Ethan said simply, leaning back against a tree. "So we can meet up with Kronos there. If I'm correct, by sunset tomorrow, the attack on Manhattan will start. And I have given too much for this cause to miss out on it now."

We had woken the others not long after discussing Tank Man. He did not seemed, however, inclined to repeat his speech.

I sighed, thinking. "Maybe. With nectar, probably. We're on Long Island now, right?"

"Right."

"And remind me again how we're supposed to solve this bloody murder problem?"

"He's not a murderer," Hunter snapped. "We've been over this."

"The plan is," Ethan cut her off loudly, "that I will talk to him alone. I think it'll be best if it's just me, who already knows about it."

"I should be there. I have more leverage over him than you, little as that is," Hunter muttered.

"No. Let me do this. That way he can't get angry at you guys when I break the news," Ethan insisted. "I'll come back and tell you what he says."

"And if he insists on meeting with us?"

"…Well, I'm not going to _disobey _him…"

"So we might as well be there in the first place!"

"No!" he snapped, long tired of being questioned. "It's just me and that's the end of it! Bree, are you ready?"

"You got nectar canteens?" I asked, sighing. I didn't like the idea of Ethan facing a rapid, angry Kronos alone, but I had to admit it made the most sense.

Ethan, Hunter, and Brook nodded. "We're ready."

I held out my arms. Hunter and Brook clung to my left and Ethan, as he usually was, stuck to my right. That way, I stood on his blind side. It was a sign of trust in me, and protected that side with another warrior. I guess he hadn't had that luxury in the Labyrinth.

"Well, here goes nothing," I muttered.

oOo

The first clue we had of Kronos's base was, believe it or not, a bright neon sign.

"Ach," I muttered, eyes crossing before I could slam them closed. Large, pulsing, neon cursive letters. Holy Styx, that killed dyslexic brains fast.

I had risked more nectar than a usual demigod could take to keep my energy up. So far, I wasn't too tired, nor had I exploded into ashes. So I guessed I was alright.

"Look," Ethan pointed. "Through the trees."

The neon sign, which was maybe two hundred yards away (bright enough to see from that far and through so many dang trees, stupid sign) stood in the center of… White specs…

"Tents," Ethan summarized. "Lots of them."

We were at the camp!

We made a hasty approach through the woods then, fast-walking through the underbrush and dodging trees. Hunter strode a head while Ethan – for once – restrained his long-legged gait and took guard from behind. The white flashes of tents and the orange glint of fires grew closer.

"Stop!"

We all skidded to a halt, turning to the noise. There, through the trees, dressed in armor and sword raised, clearly guarding this part of the border, stood Herald.

"It's just us!" Ethan called, waving his hand.

"State your names and business!" Herald yelled, suspicious. This was not a bad thing to be, guarding a camp.

"Ethan Nakamura, son of Nemesis!"

We followed suit, each one giving our names. Since Herald was Greek, I lied and said "Hades."

When we finished, I saw the glint of his armor move aside and sword move in a familiar signal. "Go on in. Kronos is inside the building, at the back – he'll want to know you're here."

What, no insults this time?

"Thanks!" Ethan called, and bolted past Hunter, leaving us to straggle after him.

The camp was set in a clearing, no, a yard. There was a broken-down building to one side. There were statues thrown against it or tossed aside. This made room for all the tents – they spanned as far as the eye could see, spilling over the yard and into the woods, demigods and monsters milling around like ants in a hill. The smell of smoke and cooking meat was thick, along with that of armor polish and sweat. Above, the sky was a dark blanket, tattered so that light from above shone through. The trees stood shock-still, as if afraid to move.

"He's in the building, right?" I asked, not even attempting to decipher the sign and figure out where we were.

"Yep!" Ethan called, gaining about a meter on us with each stride.

"So dang eager," Hunter muttered, but was moving almost as fast.

The building had clearly been abandoned. The front area was filled with different statues, of people and cats and dogs and little bitty toads. An army of misfit terracotta soldiers, patiently waiting for a threat.

We weaved our way beyond the stones and cracked floors and broken bits of ceiling, sky peeking through. Towards the back, the lights were working. I could smell the grease and – making my stomach growl angrily, for it'd been over a day since I ate – French fries coming from a kitchen.

It wasn't until then that I realized I was hungry. Ethan, too – it was funny to see the look on his face.

Then we heard voices. Kronos, obviously. We could hear him talking to someone. His voice was wound as a violin string. "-Don't care what you're comfortable with, I want the drakon, so get it here before sunrise!"

"Y-y-yes, my lord!" came the guttural whimper of a monster.

A low growl echoed through the building, making me shudder. "Whoever is prowling around in the aisles," Kronos spat, "show yourselves!"

Assuming he meant us, Ethan moved faster (this was getting annoying now) and emerged from behind a large crate of stone butterflies. Immediately, he fell to one knee and bowed his head. "My lord, I'm sorry I am late, but I came as fast as I could. The others, too."

We followed him nervously out into the open. The back of the store, which had clearly been previously occupied by tables, had been cleared and decorated with a large and fancy chair. A throne, I assumed, for Kronos sat on it straight-backed and scowling. In a good mood, basically. On one side stood Queen Sess, who had replaced Melissa as head of the dracnae. Her forked tongue flickered in and out, green eyes wide, absorbing every detail. On the other side of the throne was a Laistrygonian giant in the middle of discovering French fries, gulping them down dozens at a time. My stomach rumbled. The dim white light cast light shadows across the space.

At the last second remembering my place, I knelt, the same way Ethan had. Brook and Hunter did as well, but we did not say anything.

Kronos, who had been in the middle of saying in an amused tone, "Nakamura, I was beginning to worry that-" cut himself off. "…Daughter?"

Hunter raised her head to look at him. "Well, I'm not Richard Parker, am I?" she drawled slowly.

"I guess not!" he guffawed. We jumped as his feet landed in front of us – he had leapt off the throne. I stared up at him in shock, expecting to be hit by his hand or his sword (because when had he moved that fast to deliver something good) but found his arms spread wide open.

There was silence for a moment as we realized what he was doing. Alarms were going off in my mind again – the kind that said I had entered a realm of fantasy, and wasn't seeing the truth anymore. Kronos did not give _hugs._

A moment later, his gaze cracked, and he tore his eyes from Hunter and glanced around the room. Then he cleared his throat and stepped back, pulling his arms in and adjusting his breastplate. Red began to flood his cheeks, another thing I hadn't ever seen Kronos do. "I apologize for my… Act of affection. This body still has human habits."

We knew better than to so much as giggle, so we nodded and mumbled our agreement. "They'll fade soon. Lots of weird quirks like that, humans can have…"

Which faded to an awkward silence.

Luckily, Kronos was even better at Hunter when it came to breaking that up. He sat back on his throne and said, "Rise, children. We have much to discuss."

We stood in front of him, straight-backed, in a line. Like we'd been taught. He smiled at us. "First, how did you escape? I saw Nakamura's charm break and neither Hunter nor Brook used theirs and showed up here. You would not believe the last few days for me… I feared the worst."

"He made our livesss miserable for it," Queen Sess muttered.

He turned to glare at her. "Out. You, too, wide load."

The Laistrygonian made a heart-breaking hurt expression at the nickname and, lip sticking out in a pout, dropped his French fries and strolled back to the front of the store. Queen Sess followed.

"That was a mean thing to call him," Hunter said. "Rule; you don't call cute things or ugly things with the potential to be cute mean names. Especially when they don't have much more intelligence than a seven-year-old kid."

Her father sighed. "I'll try to remember that, then… Now, how did you escape?"

"Shadow travel, my lord," I said, resisting the urge to call him Blondie and see how he liked it. "I grabbed them and ran until the explosion didn't burn me anymore. We kinda ended up in the Atlantic somewhere."

"And you did not freeze to death?"

"I can also heat blood, remember? It helped us float – on a current towards shore – and kept us warm."

"…I see… And you took a day to rest, I assume?"

"Once we landed on shore," Brook agreed. "When we woke, Bree shadow traveled us here again. We gave her nectar so she wasn't tired. Then we made our way here, because Ethan knew this was where you'd be."

"Ah. And what of you and Hunter?"

"…Well, I used a flare to help us find land. And Hunter sped up time a bit as we walked."

"I trust you are all unharmed?"

"Nothing unfixable," Ethan muttered.

"Good. Rest well for… two hours do we have, now? Rest for two hours. Be up at dawn. We will spend the day training and making preparations. We must be in place around Manhattan by sundown. Then, we will launch our attack. And I expect all of you to be there."

oOo

The whole camp was frantic. You'd think there was a fire somewhere.

People moved around, juggling weapons and water and food provisions, sorting themselves into groups. Demigods merged with monsters. The smell of smoke had grown stronger and the blue sky above seemed to be permanently stained by us. Clearly, the numbers were more than just what had survived the explosion of the ship. There were people here – and some were still coming in – from Mount Othrys.

I dimly remembered that my home was in danger, and hoped it was okay.

Kronos stood next to Brook, Hunter, Ethan and I at the front of the warehouse, overlooking the bustling hive of bees.

He had made an effort now to show we were ranked quite high. We were not to leave his side. When we took orders, it was confidential. He let Hunter snap at stragglers who lagged behind their group or were slow in their task. That authority was not something other demigods had.

It had been business all day. Kronos, despite his longing for hugs earlier, had not shown any sign of affection for us. His orders were clearly, crisply stated words that were followed. No debate, no questions. Just do it.

Because that's what you always did when Kronos ordered you to do something. You did it.

Ethan's face was glazed over with a no-nonsense mask. Any small humor he'd had before vanished. The only show of personal emotion or free words was that morning, when we'd woken and headed to the warehouse. Someone had ambushed Ethan and smacked him over the head as hard as they could. We all turned around, ready to leap in and fight, only to find it was Kyle with a crazy grin on his face. "You little-!" he yelled, throwing in a lot of Latin (for Kyle was Roman) cuss words. "We all thought you were dead!" Then he grasped Ethan's hand in his and shook it firmly.

Ethan gave him the smallest of smiles and said, "Well, I'm glad I'm not."

And that was the end of it. It reminded me of when Hunter and I had been on friendlier terms – we used to greet one another like that.

No, but since we were out of immediate danger, she had not spoken a word to me. You'd think there'd be a measure of peace, now that we were on the same side. Working together. Had the same goals.

Nope.

I didn't see when Ethan pulled Kronos aside and spoke to him about our findings. I was lost in my iPod, listening to my music, fingering Întuneric and helping Hunter distribute small knives. We had extra, and were encouraging people to carry one just in case they lost their primary weapon. Kronos's orders, of course.

"Are you mad at something?" I asked Hunter. She didn't even glance at me and slammed the next crate on the ground, drawing a knife and waving the next kid in line forward.

I wondered if it was me she was mad at, or something else. The silent treatment is not something Hunter usually gives to the subject of her anger. If she has a problem with you, you'll hear about it.

Lunch break was brief. Someone passed out sandwiches. We were all nervous and – quite wisely – didn't eat a lot of them.

Toward the end, an awkward silence settle over us. Not the kind that said someone had been offended – the one that whispered of things that nobody could find the words for.

Ethan was the one to break it. "…I think Lord Kronos is grouping us together for the fight. We still have a few minutes… Do you want to review everything on team fighting before we move out?"

"Wouldn't be a bad idea. But wherever we go, Brook will be in the back with the other archers," Hunter pointed out.

"She can handle herself there, I'm sure," Ethan said calmly. "Didn't you see her shooting fish out of the Atlantic?"

"I can handle myself in close-range combat, too," Brook said.

We stared at her. Not because she couldn't, although that was true, nor because it was a stupid statement. She wouldn't have said it if she didn't have a plan.

She smiled at us and tapped her head. "I'm a hunter, remember? Programmed by design to be an assassin. A predator. I'll be okay."

"Whatever trick you got up your sleeve," Ethan muttered, "use it well. It's my job to oversee the mass graves later."

oOo

"Move out! FOR THE TITANS!"

The army roared back at Kronos, echoing his chant, and stormed off in different directions. Many were moving too fast – time-warp.

The few guards left milled around the clearing, a sad, shabby recreation of the previous movement weaving throughout the camp.

Kronos turned to face us. "Into the warehouse. I will explain to you your part."

We followed him in two lines, Ethan and Hunter at the front of each. Brook ran and held Hunter's hand. I fell in beside her and behind Ethan. Behind us were the rest of the demigods he had pulled aside last-minute; Nick, son of Nike, Herald, son of Hermes, Kyle, son of None, Chris, daughter of Mars, Jaden, son of Athena, and Wren, daughter of Apollo.

Behind me, Nick muttered and took two steps back. I was the biggest superstition in the Titan army, and nobody here had forgotten.

Though I'd be damned if I let them know it bothered me. I held my head high and marched. I was sick of society, had been all my life, and was not about to appear inferior to such stupidity. He was going to have to put up with my pride.

None of those who had raised me, out of Hunter, Ethan, Brook, and Kronos, had ever taught me different.

Heck, I was an _assassin _now. I didn't even have think – I could turn around and kill everyone I wanted in less than three seconds, and they couldn't stop me. Soft parts and chinks in armor were as obvious as strobe lights, piercing my mind, letting me know they were there. They were so easily made targets, these people that shunned me. So easily that subject I killed time and time again during training. So who were they, really? They were nothing.

Now I could see why Kronos asked me to think this way. It was much more productive…

I nearly ran into Ethan when we stopped. We had reached the back of the warehouse, and stood in front of Kronos and his throne. We fanned out into one line. Me, Brook, Ethan, and Hunter from left to right, like we had that night. On either side of us, though, the other demigods took position. We stood and waited.

Kronos's gaze raked over us. "…Yes, I think you'll do just fine."

We waited.

"I have called you here today because you ten have proven yourselves great fighters. And from various backgrounds and parentage, too, none of them bright at all. You are the underdogs that turned your hell into your kingdom."

Still we waited. We were listening now. His words were law. His words always had been.

"That is no small feat, and I recognize that. You are here today because there is no one else I would rather have by my side in this battle. You all know what you fight for. You all take orders well. You will not fail me. You will not fail the billions of lives depending on this war. You are, as far as I am concerned, the top demigods in this army. I have a special task for you. You will accept it.

"I want you ten to be a part of my personal guard."

We knew there was more coming, so no one spoke a word.

"We are the spearhead. We will be the ones to march into Olympus and tear it down. Under my guidance, under my rule, we will bring this world to justice. And we will rebuild anew from the ashes, a world that won't ever be needed to be fixed. You will live in glory and have power, lots of power. Everyone will know your names throughout the Western Hemisphere. Never doubt your importance. I need you all today, and so here I call.

"Wren, Daughter of Health. Chris, Daughter of War. Nick, Son of Victory. Bree, Daughter of Darkness. Brook, Daughter of the Hunt. Ethan, Son of Vengeance. Hunter, Daughter of Time. Jaden, Son of Battles and Wisdom. Kyle, Son of the Unnamed. Herald, Son of Travel and Trade. Pledge yourselves to one another, to the downfall of Olympus, and to me. Join me in this uprising. Join me as we rise from ashes into a better generation. I am running this war straight to an end. Will you follow?"

We all knew not to speak when he asked that. He had drilled this sort of answer from us over the year. Instead, we raised our hands and saluted, perfectly trained soldiers at attention.

My heart was pounding like crazy. I had heard stories of the cruel Olympians. I had heard the legends of Percy Jackson, murderer, poor misled kid tricked into serving them. I knew the myths about my own brother as well; insane, murderous, picture-perfect child of Hades.

Kronos had showed us video footage. Places, lives, people destroyed through the Olympian's work. News from the mundane world portraying it all as bad weather or volcanic eruptions. Kronos had told me he didn't know where my mother was, only that she was dead. And chances were the Olympians had killed her, too, simply for being what she was.

He hadn't even dared speak of Hunter's mother.

The thought of Ethan's father, drawn by the Olympians to shoot himself while holding his sever-year-old child's hand. The hard glares and snaps and angry growls that came from Ethan. Like those of a wounded animal.

I shuddered and lowered my hand with the rest of the Guard. This was my war now. Kronos was not going to scare me out if it, either. My friends, my family, my war. Other issues could be set aside for a few days; this could not. We would address Kronos's torture methods later.

Today, we marched into battle.

We stood atop a building in lower Brooklyn, staring over the East River and into Manhattan. Not a sound could be heard from the city.

Kronos had told Hypnos to put all the humans to sleep. Or, so he said. And it certainly seemed so. I had never been to New York City before, but for the city that never sleeps, it was too quiet. Like a barren wasteland. The towers pierced the sky like jagged ends of bare, stripped bones. A cold breeze floated off the river and made me huddle in my jacket.

In my hands, humming with a calm eagerness, was Întuneric. It calmed my nerves.

The sun had not yet touched the horizon. I stood next to Hunter. On her other side was Kronos. On his right, Ethan, and Brook next to him. Behind us were the rest of the Guard.

"You know something?" Ethan whispered to us. Kronos let him.

"What, did you forget to put on deodorant?" Hunter chuckled. Impending doom hung over us, but for the moment, we were fine with it. So what if we were going to die? It would just… happen. And we didn't really feel the need to resist.

Brook snickered and Ethan smiled. "No. Something else."

"Then spit it out, Chihuahua," I smiled, remembering our old nickname for him.

He turned back to the city. "We forgot to watch the second season of Black Butler."

"There's always tomorrow," Hunter laughed darkly.

He nodded. "I suppose there is."

At that moment, Kronos cleared his throat, silencing us. The look in his golden eyes had changed from alert to pleasantly settled. "Do you remember the name of that island, Bree?"

"Manhattan?" I guessed, because I knew nothing of New York City. Kronos just nodded solemnly. I glanced at Hunter, gauging her reaction to the blood-red city. The dying sun bathed the gleaming metal towers in a gruesome light, as if the fight had already begun. She just stared, wholly indifferent.

"Nakamura?" Kronos drawled, sounding rather bored. "Signal the attack. This is over."

oOo

**Nyx: YES! Getting down to it! I hope the way Bree had changed since the start of the series, and how her opinion on Kronos's teachings (not Kronos himself) is starting to warp as well. Note it. I will try to make it more obvious, because I know I haven't done a good job with it. Oh, and thanks for all those who reviewed! I practically live off feedback. You know, come to think of it, I haven't had breakfast yet….**

**Nic: Don't worry about it! Just right the next chapter before Karode goes insane and decides to sue us for it!**

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**.**

***No we're not mad at you, Karode. You make us laugh. And very proud, too. We would apologize for your stress, but that's kinda the reaction we're trying to get out of readers. You know, like when you read Mark of Athena and *pairing* fall into *spoiler alert* and *censored name* drives you nuts because you love him and he made a stupid promise… Anyway, Thanks for the constant R and R!**


	37. Unity

**DISCLAIMER: We own nothing. Rick Riordan owns PJatO and HoO.**

oOo

Manhattan was not so quiet anymore.

They had moved south along Brooklyn's edge and boarded a motorboat, and were now speeding towards lower Manhattan with Kronos's purple flag standing proud as Stonehenge at the bow. The deep red color of the sun was fading to the blackness of night.

Ethan raised his head and let the spray pepper his face. It was nice and cool. In contrast, the crowded boat was hot and stuffy. Feverish, even. People shifted in their seats and muttered nervously about the fight. Beside him, Bree had her eyes closed, taking deep breaths. She looked unnervingly calm. He had seen this of her before, but now he couldn't tell if it was spawned by nightfall, the battle, or seasickness.

In fact, it was hard to read just about everything she did.

Next to her was Brook, who huddled into Hunter. She was strong, but she was eleven years old, and was not enjoying the sounds drafting across the New York Bay.

They could see the fights on the bridges. Small shapes heaving, little shifts in the light. The rumble of battle in the tunnels below the rivers, though they couldn't see, they imagined they could feel shaking the boat. As far as Manhattan itself, Ethan couldn't see anything happening on the shoreline.

But the sounds were evident.

Clashing metal and battle cries lit the wind like fiery streaks. Like fireworks, Ethan thought dully. Screams did, too, more like icy knives that raked up his spine.

These were, by now, routine noises for him.

They were the cue for his eye to grow sharper and his hearing to key up and the muscles in his limbs work themselves up for a good workout. His mind was relatively empty. Another battle, another fight. A very important one, so much so he felt a little stressed, but still a fight.

And he had been in fights before. Several.

His hand clenched on the railing. This was what he'd given everything for. And now he might give more – he could lose Kyle, or one of the girls, or Herald before their project was complete. He was glad, though, that they were all on the Guard with him.

As a matter of fact, as the thought crossed his mind, a dark eye met his. Herald. Ethan read the question there and nodded.

Yes. Yes, give everything. Die if you have to. Their delicate plan couldn't afford less. They might have Manhattan surrounded, it might look like an easy win, but Ethan knew you don't just overthrow societies overnight. This was going to take a lot of effort, and a lot of lives.

Only after they'd won would any plan be put into action. Besides, the gun in his jacket was useless without the materials Herald was still frantically trying to gather.

His partner in crime leaned back enough to whisper, "I think I can get the gunpowder tonight. Mac's brother Benjamin has it. He knows to answer to you if I die tonight."

Ethan nodded, glancing at Bree. She didn't appear to have heard. "Alright. You know where the gun is, too."

"That I do," Herald said, and returned to sitting upright.

As soon as he did, Bree's right eye opened and fixed itself on Ethan's face. "Business?"

He nodded. Everyone did business with Herald – so long she hadn't heard what he'd said, then it wasn't reason to raise suspicion. "Healing herbs. They're going to be scarce."

"Ah," she said, understanding flashing on her face. He let out a breath – she hadn't heard. "Good idea. Though Brook has access to Kronos's stores, you know."

"Still, you never know," Ethan sighed, looking out at Manhattan again.

His skin itched. He hated this boat. He wanted to be up there fighting already.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, the boat began to rock.

At the head, Kronos frowned. "Wren, do try to steer better. We're heading off track. Turn up the power, too – the current is getting strong."

"Yes, my lord," Wren said, fixing the settings to his command.

The boat rocked again, violently, shuddering as force slammed into its hull. Some demigods cried out and grabbed the railing.

Hunter scowled. "The Olympians are all busy chasing Typhon across the United States, right? Where are they now?"

"Just crossed Missouri," Jaden confirmed. "And the river gods here swore loyalty to us…"

"TURN AROUND!"

"Trying!" Wren yelped, yanking on the controls. The boat began to shift and rise, slipping through the water like a bread crumb. The propeller made a sharp hacking noise and fell still. "We've lost power!"

"Well, fix it," Kronos snapped.

"I can't – I think something's stuck-"

She was cut off by screams. Another wave slammed into the side of the small boat, rocking it to one side. Water crashed over the top. For a moment, Ethan couldn't see, cold black water pulling him off the railing and into Bree. Then the boat burst from the surf again, water draining from the sides. He gasped and shook the water out of his eyes.

Bree clung to the bench, teeth clenched and fists white. Hunter had her feet braced against the wall and floor. Brook held on to them both.

Another massive wave built up. The wind had grown stronger, too, yanking at Ethan's clothes and trying to pull him into the mischievous water. He had just enough time to lunge for the railing again before, once more, the world plunged into the dark sea.

It felt like a hammer made of ice. Ethan's fingers had gone numb. He squeezed them onto the railing, unsure that it was really there, lips clamped shut.

Then there was air again. The boat shot out of the water and bounced on the thrashing surface like a fishing bobber released of its load.

Bree had slipped off the bench and grabbed Ethan's arm, yowling like a wet cat. Anger flashed in her eyes. Then the boat rocked again, turning balance around and lost in the shadow of a wave.

With a last, final shuddering groan of protest, the boat flipped.

Balance was something unheard of. Ethan's head slammed into something painfully and Bree fell away and suddenly the world was cold, like liquid ice (well, that's what it was after all, he figured) and every last sound vanished. Water filled his ears and something twisted on his arm painfully.

He wrenched himself free and kicked away from the capsized boat, noting the pressure on his ears increase, and knew he'd gone deeper. Fighting a current he lashed to one side and moved through the water away from the boat. Then, no longer entirely sure which way was which, lunged for what he took to be the surface.

Thank the gods, Titans, whoever you want, but he'd been right. Sound burst into reality again as his head broke the surface. There was the crashing of waves and the cries of the Guard and Kronos's furious voice, a howling battle cry. Golden magic blazed like a fire, sending dancing reflections too yellow to be sunlight across the water.

Ethan ducked and resurfaced as another wave passed. He turned, searching for the boat – there! Turned upside down and off to the side. Had this been a normal storm, Ethan knew it wouldn't be safe. But this wasn't any storm. This storm had a _target,_ and it wasn't the demigods huddling on top of the boat's underside.

Using the next wave to his advantage, he lunged forward, riding on the water. At last his fingers rammed into the metal rim of the boat. With effort, he lurched up and tried to grab higher up the side, fingers slipping on the wet, hardened plastic. There was no edge to grab – just sleek surface. He cried out as his hold vanished and he went under once more.

Upon emerging, he looked to the other demigods for help. Jaden, Chris, and Nick had already gotten up there. When they didn't offer help, he took it by force, grabbing onto Jaden's leg and hauling himself up.

Had the boat been more crowded, Jaden would've, without a doubt, pushed him off. They may be the Guard, but it was every man for himself.

As Ethan climbed, a hand grabbed his shoulder. He tensed, waiting for a push, but they hauled him up higher. He glanced at the hand – small, pale from the cold, silver sleeve utterly soaked. Bright eyes glinted from behind dark hair.

"Brook!" he cried, thrilled.

She nodded and turned, reaching for Bree. Ethan leaned down to help, gasping as the boat pitched and threatened to dump them all again. For a moment, Bree disappeared. Then with an explosion of white foam, shot out of the dark veined water and lunged upward, a furious battle cry on her lips. Ethan and Brook grabbed her hands and pulled her up.

"Watch it!" Nick cried as they bumped into him.

Bree shook the hair out of her face and scowled, eyes blazing with anger. She was going to hit somebody soon. "I swear, once this is over, I'll march into the Atlantic and kill that yellow coward Poseidon myself!"

She was not a fan of water, Ethan guessed.

He turned, searching the waves for Hunter. What he saw took his breath away.

Rising up so high it blotted out the night sky was… A man. Or the image of a man. It was crafted of water, of roaring currents writhing angrily around one another and dripping everywhere. The only real aspect about it was the teeth – sharp, real teeth.

The water-man lifted a giant hand and slammed it into the water, creating a ripple of harsh waves. Ethan cried out and grabbed at the boat. Brook was so shocked she grabbed him. Nick cursed and slid, barely managing to save himself from falling into the water again.

The man scowled and drew his hand back, a low growl coming from his throat. The growl and gurgle of a thousand waterfalls, of billions of currents, untamed energy that'd sweep you away in a moment. Ethan shuddered and pressed himself flat to the boat.

In front of the man, looking small in comparison but oh so defiant, was Kronos.

Golden magic swirled beneath his feet, holding him inches from the water's surface. His golden hair was thrown to one side by the wind, revealing glowing eyes and a smile sharper than the scythe in his hands. The weapon hummed and glowed eagerly, like a living demon. Another growl came from the Titan, louder than the currents and the wind and the water, drowning out the giant river spirit. The growl bubbled into a laugh.

Ethan pressed one hand to Savior's hilt, suddenly more scared of the Titan than he'd ever been before.

"You traitor!" Kronos called above the winds, his tone icily calm. "What, may I ask, made you change your mind?"

The water god growled again, trying to drone him out, but failed. "I am a god, and you are a Titan. There was no peace between us in the first place!"

"You are a god. You are not an Olympian. They've shut you out, East. They will never accept you as one of them."

"And you would?" East growled. "Don't make me laugh. You wouldn't spare the life of anyone, insect or fellow Titan. Let this be finished."

"If you wish," Kronos sighed, looking bored now. "Hunter?"

There was no sound to signify her appearance. Just a golden streak, light as a firework, shooting across the giant's chest. The water monster howled and whirled, trying to catch the annoying Roman candle. But it had already reappeared over his shoulder.

"What trickery is this?!" East cried, flinching. "There are two of you?!"

"Not quite," Kronos smiled. Then he disappeared, too, nothing more than a trail of bright golden magic.

They wound around the East River spirit like cords, working together, one going clockwise and the other the opposite. A bright, light-colored slid opened up across the pulsing black tide across East's chest. The pattern of the water began to fall apart, crashing back into the bay in great streams, rocking the boat harder.

Another slice across East's forehead burst into existence. Then another through his throat. A shocked, panicked gurgle came from him, similar to that of a hot spring.

Another mark tore through his arm. Golden Ichor began to flow.

"Stop!" the river god hissed, and dispersed, turning to water that dropped back into the bay with a mighty crash.

The boat rocked again, but didn't come close to tipping.

A growl came from Kronos, who stood above the water again, golden eyes two bright pinpricks in the sea of dark water and black sky. "Show yourself, coward!"

"Please, stop! I have information!" East's voice echoed across the air. Hunter slowed to a stop beside her father, golden hair gleaming in the starlight. Ethan swallowed thickly.

Out of the water East rose again, still cut, but much smaller. He looked half… Half seal. Almost like a Telekhine. Yet still made of water. He glided forward across the surface. "Stop hurting me, leave, and I'll tell you."

Kronos scowled and stepped forward, scythe level with East's throat. "You'll tell me now and let us pass, or I'll kill you here and now. There is no water in Tartarus, East. You'll be parched."

"Noo-oo-ooo! Leave me alone!"

"Spew it, unless you want to become a really, really long waterfall," Hunter spat. Her voice sent chills down Ethan's spine.

"Leave!"

"I think not," Kronos scowled leaning closer. Without the waves, the boat felt too still. Like a dead body.

East was backing away now. "Look here…"

"Three seconds."

East's face turned into one of defiance. For a moment, Ethan wondered why, because at the same time he gave in and spilled the information. "Percy Jackson is heading towards the Williamsburg Bridge right now. He's with Annabeth and will join the Apollo campers there in a battle with the Minotaur and the ones he leads."

Then Kronos hesitated, golden eyes sharp.

Oh. Now Ethan knew why East spilled the information. No way Kronos could stay now.

Kronos scowled and drew his scythe back, gold gaze fixed on East. "This is not over, you pathetic little _creek._ We will be back. You are not our first goal. You are not so important. Keep that in mind when I make my reappearance."

Then he turned to the demigods gathered on and around the boat, gaze punching a hole in Ethan's chest. "We are," he called, "going to fight on the Williamsburg Bridge. Hold tight to the person next to you. When we get there, be prepared to fight and kill our most wanted. Am I clear?"

The demigods nodded, many shivering too hard to speak.

Kronos slammed his scythe down into the river, and the world went black.

oOo

I really hate whatever Kronos did right then. It wasn't teleportation or shadow travel. Just poof! New place!

The world was dark and cold and something flew by really, really fast, a confusing swirl of colors. Then, quite randomly, it all stopped and went still and created a scene faster than my mind could process it.

I stumbled, running into Ethan, who wasn't very sturdy on his feet to begin with. We crashed into the concrete. I scowled as it opened a scrape on my shoulder.

Training kicked in. I rolled away and sprang to my feet, Întuneric drawn. I immediately noticed two things. One; I was dry. Two; the fight.

The army writhed like a mass of rabid termites, swarming around the few warriors they were pitched against. They were losing. Monster dust coated the massive bridge like a carpet. Beneath, the East River surged, Ichor running down its length.

"Do you see the Minotaur?" Hunter asked, searching. The leader was nowhere to be seen.

Kronos cursed under his breath. "East lied. Jackson is already here. Though how… There are so few of them, yet the monster can't seem to kill…"

It was too hard to make out the battle from ground level. Kronos just scowled and turned to me. "We need a cavalry charge. Summon eleven skeletal horses."

I choked. "What?!"

"Eleven skeletal horses. One for each Guard and one for me. Now."

"I never learned-"

He scowled and leaned down in my face, teeth clacking like bone, breath smelling of a strange mix between mint and metal. "_Now,_ girl, before I send you in there alone!"

I sighed and stepped back, running for a place unoccupied. However, most of the street was covered with sleeping mortals. I eventually found a nice space near the base of the bridge and closed my eyes, thinking.

I had read about this stuff in those books I scared Herald into getting for me over the year. I had seen the skeletal warriors Nico had summoned during the Battle of the Labyrinth. But how was I…?

I told myself to calm down and tried to think it through. My father was Lord of the Dead. They were his people, and when in war, he drafted them. Not the spirits you see hanging in Elysium or Asphodel, not really, but ones willing to fight that could occupy a skeleton for a while. The skeleton would both protect the soul and act as a weapon. Was it possible that I had similar power?

Could I draft _horses,_ anyway?

Shaking my head vigorously, I let my senses range out. The smell of death was thick on my tongue already, but I pushed past that, listening to everything I could. I heard whispers of shadows and felt a rumbling in my chest, whispers of other things, thoughts and feelings from them pressing up against my throat.

I shuddered. Those were not shadows.

There was a huge world, I could tell, but I ignored most of it. In my mind's eye I sat in the middle of this different dimension, the one that held spirits and the dead and the shadows. Spirits and shadows. Not so different, were they?

Thinking a little bit, I recalled the anatomy of a horse. The delicate, thin legs and heavy hip bone. At the thought, I felt something stir, something turn its attention to me, listening.

A strong feeling welled inside that, with shock, I couldn't hold back. The galloping of hooves pounded in my ears. I yelled in shock, repeating to myself _eleven horses, eleven horses_ in an effort to control it, but it was no use.

The ground beneath my feet rumbled hungrily and, with a great cracking noise, split in two.

I yelped and jumped back. It rumbled again, something – no, some _things _– trying to break through to the surface. I felt their panic at being trapped, a horrible sensation of being smothered filling my mind.

Air, they wanted air…

Întuneric, still in my hands, hummed excitedly.

I drove it into the ground where the crack started and, sure enough, it got bigger. I watched as from the dark depths, shining white bone appeared. One horse leapt over the edge and came flying into Brooklyn, loping on light hooves. Another followed. Then another.

Kronos and Hunter raced around catching them. Once the eleventh escaped, I cut off all thoughts of magic and yanked my blade back. The crack sealed itself.

I turned to look back at the Guard. Kronos had already strung purple banners over each horse's back. There were no saddles – I assumed we'd have to ride bareback. One a bare spine. Ouch.

He waved us forward. "You all learned horseback riding at Mount Othrys, yes?"

I shuddered. That had been my least favorite month of training.

"Good. Climb on. Use the ribs as stirrups and ride standing. You've been taught how to do this. Come on! Up, up!"

"We're riding demons into battle?" Herald asked, skeptical.

"They are not demons," Kronos argued. "We could spend forever discussing that, but we shall not, for we are needed out there. Mount and fall into formation behind me. I'll call the forces to retreat," he rushed as he swung a leg over the largest horse's back, "and join with us. Then we'll charge in again and force them back to Manhattan. When we break through, I will call the rest of the armies to join us here and we will storm with all our might towards Olympus. They won't be able to make a stand then."

I readjusted my breastplate and climbed onto the nearest horse. It snorted and shook its head. _Ride? Ride?_

I jumped at the voice in my mind. "What?!"

The horse stamped its foot. _Rider. Rider rides. Together we charge._

All of a sudden, I was aware of all the voices. No, not voices, more like thoughts. Eleven minds invading mine like cold branding irons, each with its own set of scattered thoughts.

"Calm down!" I called. "Follow the horse ahead of you! Smash enemy heads with your hooves! Do as your rider commands!"

_Rider! Rider! Rider! _Lots of yells, giddy at having orders and hearing my voice, escalated. I was overrun by their different sensations as they held different people and different weights.

"Shut up!" I yelled. "Easy! Stay focused!"

_Focus. Focus, focus._ It was the last thing I heard from them. Then they obediently quieted, staring a head at the battle. I felt an underlying tone of analyzing and sharp, clear thoughts – they were watching the fight, picking out the different sides, discovering the situations. I had never seen horses so smart.

Behind me, Nick snarled, "We don't take orders from _you."_

I turned to glare at him. "I was talking to the horses."

Hunter sighed and glared at him. "Else they would have panicked and bucked you off down into the river. I don't know if you saw East back there, but I don't think he'd be too happy with you."

Nick fell silent and suddenly was very interested in the vertebrae of his horse's neck.

I turned back to the fight. Our side was retreating now, running back across the bridge, the whole lot of them giving the impression of running water. The Camp Half-Blood demigods – there were perhaps ten in total – charged after them a while, chasing them back to us.

Kronos growled. "Bree, look behind you."

I turned and choked. Out from the streets of Brooklyn trotted more skeletal horses, whinnying (it sounded more like shrieking), looking for me. I felt their minds press against mine in an effort to make contact.

Kronos raised an eyebrow at me. "Looks like you made more than one crevice, there."

"Oops…"

He turned back to the bridge. My eyes followed. Then, quite suddenly, a loud laugh burst from his throat. He trotted forward, carrying the purple flag that'd been on the boat, and removed his helmet. A sick smile crossed his face. The demigods on the bridge began to retreat.

His eyes glinted like sharpened gold, his voice quiet and soft as silk. "_Charge."_

oOo

**Nyx: Okay! That took longer than expected…. I didn't try to rush it, but it still took a few hours…. In my defense, there was also breakfast and rereading part of TLO and I **_**did **_**manage to cut my foot open by accident just over halfway through. Had to take care of that. But it's finished now! Yay!**

**Nic: This is how you spent your Saturday morning?**

**Nyx: Apparently. **

**Nic: Next week, we have more Battle of Manhattan, more Ethan, more Kronos, and some dark secrets that nobody could have guessed…. **

**Nyx: Also, if I hurry (I have many projects to work on, if you can't tell) we might have the cover done. You will love it, I promise. I just have a last few stickler details on the characters, floors and walls (not hard), a chair (also very easy and fast) and the detailed title which will take some experimenting. If not next week, then right after. It will be up soon, I promise! And please look at it when it is. I have spent hours on it.**

**Nic: How much do you spend on bandages, cutting your foot open every Saturday?**

**Nyx: X/ I need to go give my cat a bath…**

**Nic: Nice change of subject.**

11


	38. Homeostasis

**DISCLAIMER: We do not own PJatO or HoO. Rick Riordan does. As you can probably tell by now.**

oOo

Riding a skeletal horse is harder than it looks. At least, harder than Kronos made it seem. Though yet again, he didn't join the charge.

While the Guard horses leapt into action, speeding down the bridge with thundering hooves that shook the concrete, he followed behind at a leisurely pace. Walking, even. The banner/flag/emblem thing he carried was still held high.

With a jolt, I realized that I could see the demigods we were approaching almost clearly. The sky had turned grey. In another hour or so, the sun would be above the horizon and peeking through Brooklyn's towers.

Then, to my right, there was a sickening thud and a sharp yelp.

I turned. Jaden's horse lacked a rider. Two extra arrows were embedded in the spine.

_Storm! Storm!_ My horse whinnied and tossed its head. I risked a glance up to find the dark, steady mist of arrows overhead. My heart began to pound as fast as the cavalry's hooves. The cables and sparkling East River and pavement and sky and other horses all whipped by so fast. Too fast.

The head of our charge hit.

Only two demigods had not retreated with the archers. Hunter's scythe, in the form of a sword to disguise her identity, swung down towards the first as she raced past. I expected to see them fall – surely, if not to her than to Ethan, just a heartbeat behind – but the sword bounced harmlessly off their throat and a Celestial bronze blur flashed out at the last second. The white bones of the horse's legs shattered. The sight made me flinch, a small pinching sensation echoing in the back of my mind.

Hunter swung off her horse and stuck the landing. Before she had Ethan had already been forcefully dismounted in the same manner. He, however, had taken a less agile spill across the concrete.

"DISMOUNT!" I called, and took a chance.

Ethan had taught me how to land. On the balls of your feet, roll with the momentum, and spring back with sword drawn. It was simple, actually, when I thought about it and simpler as it was done. Like breathing in and out. Things snapped into focus, details sharp and clear, every sound crisp. Întuneric began to vibrate.

Horses thundered by in white flashes and tugging winds. I leapt back to make room for one and then charged forward to save myself from another. The bones made a clattering noise as they passed. At last, I saw the rest of the Guard through the fray, an orange t-shirt and dark hair among them. The shadows seemed to pulse happily. My sword became all the lighter.

I charged.

Immediately I could tell our previous sense of order was lost. Sea-green eyes glinted like poisoned knives behind a curtain of swinging gold. The crack of his sword – Riptide, I had been told on more than one occasion – was like rolling thunder. Every attack we had was, due to him, spontaneous and far from coordinated. The clash of blades was one-sided and like the snarl of a predator. I moved in for a strike, calm, making sure to keep my head level.

Flawless. I was supposed to look like that. One day, Kronos had said, I would_ be_ flawless. When I'd seen enough fights and the war was over and I was whatever glorious thing he said he'd make me. I was better than this – I was to be _that,_ that wonderful image he had, a cured demon with an iron fist.

It was another problem during training. I could've been dueling Ethan in our training clearing. Early morning, just like this, sun not quite up but combined with the starlight just enough to give me the contour edges on the top of every surface, highlighting dark hair and a nose and the sharp glint of an eye. The bright, sudden, swift gleam of a bronze sword. It was all in slow motion. I was faster. I was better. I had been trained for all this, trained to kill, his vulnerable spots shining bright as tempting diamonds. Ha. Didn't he know how easy this was? My confidence grew. This wasn't so complicated. I didn't know how Ethan had failed to kill him in the Labyrinth-

-And a deafening screech, a sound straight from Tartarus, exploded into existence. Suddenly Întuneric was fighting me, pushing back and then flying off behind and to my right, dragging my arm fiercely with it. I gasped and leapt back, half-rolling with it and half-pulling it back. A foot slammed into my side painfully as I did.

As soon as possible I sprang to my feet again, Întuneric drawn once more. I ran my finger down one side carefully, feeling for any marks Riptide could have left. I hadn't thought it possible for a Celestial bronze sword to make such a mark, and indeed there was none, but the hit had me shaking.

I'd never seen anyone move that fast. Not besides Kronos, Hunter, and myself. And the utter, crushing force behind it…

There. Wren moved to one side and I saw him again. Percy Jackson looked like he'd been away from civilization for a good few days. Or months. Like a wild animal, a sharp sneer and violent eyes and messy hair and sharp, sharp claws. Behind him with her back to his was the famous Annabeth Chase, knife fast as lightning in her hands. The Guard and monster reinforcements writhed around them. With hope, I recognized other demigods from Mount Othrys among us. The arrows had stopped coming, for nobody could be sure if they'd hit friend or foe. Surely, surrounded like this, they would fall soon.

At my side was a familiar shape, moving like a snapping wolf. Kyle lunged in from Percy's side. I followed, knowing fending off two strikes was harder. We moved together, finding unity for a moment, at last some sort of coordination-

It was nothing but a flash. A blur of bronze there and gone just as fast. Kyle spun away and I lost his step, lost him, shattering our efforts to work together. Then I was focused on steeling Întuneric against the next blow.

Riptide came fast, a heavy stick, pressing against Întuneric like lead. Green eyes burned from beneath black bangs and locked on the slit in my helm, unable to find my own. The pressure on my arm grew. If I could hold him-

Hunter dove in from the side and brought her sword down as hard as she could on his shoulder. It bounced off harmlessly with a proud display of sparks.

Riptide slid down towards Întuneric's glyphs at the base. My arms began to shake with the effort. It felt like I was trying to resist a truck.

Then, before he could break my effort and fling his sword in my face, he leapt out of the lock and spun around, glinting in the starlight, ready to catch me as I stumbled-

It was met by a scythe.

I heard a grunt of surprise from Percy and the angry shriek of blades crashing again. Hunter moved between us like a swirling current, purple jacket matching her father's flag billowing in the wind. The massive scythe spun in her grasp and crashed into Riptide once, twice, three times before she took a daring step forward.

He took one step back.

She pulled back to her first position and held, knowing the strike was coming. She shoved his sword away and then lunged in again, feet slamming down onto the pavement with each step in a command, an order, a call to follow.

From not too far away, the beat got stronger. I turned - and there, leading the attack against Annabeth, was Ethan. He fought to his usual beat, a strong, unbreakable, flawless thing that seemed to bend everything to its will. The bridge trembled with each beat, swords flashed in time, steps were made and blows exchanged all in time. In between each one, he moved like he was dancing, almost.

Hunter was following him, I realized.

And when Hunter made a statement of something, people followed.

Kyle reappeared beside me, and Herald next to Ethan. Brook, a dagger in each hand, took up position next to Hunter. Step by step, the rhythm spread across our force, taking over like a disease. Even my pulse seemed to take up its solid pace, every move fell into place, every beat echoing in my head. We marched to one drum, slaves to this strong entity, utterly consumed by it.

One pulse, for one living thing. No matter how many limbs or swords it had. One beat, one pull, one way.

A bewildered, panicked light sprang to life in Percy's eyes. His sword flashed back and forth, parrying ours, working to our time. I felt it more than saw it, each pulse thudding solidly in every part of me. I could even tell when Annabeth faltered and fell into our time, too.

Beneath our feet, the bridge shuddered slightly. The air seemed to crack with each beat. For a moment, it felt like we could crack solid ground like that.

But just because we were together didn't mean we were invincible. Riptide flashed in front of me again and landed solidly on Wren's shoulder. It was in time, the hard clash of sword on armor and crack of bone perfectly in time, accenting the moment.

I stepped back with it, and with the next pulse, I lunged. Întuneric bounced off his bare shoulder. Green eyes flashed angrily at the impact, and at the next beat, he pushed forward as I leapt back.

Then the faint outline of him disappeared. For a moment, the world was plunged into darkness. The beat of wings, though also in time with our pulse, battered at my ears. A deafening whinny - not one of my horses - cut the air and as I stepped forward again there was the sick crunch of bronze armor and the sharp, terminating snap of bone. Then the pale sunlight flooded the world again and I saw it - a pegasus, jet-black, shooting off into the sky.

Next to me, Kyle crumpled to the ground. His helmet had caved in on one side, too far for there to be a whole head still inside.

Then the beat pulled again, driving me back and to the right, and I forgot all about it.

Another brief crescendo lulled, this one more urgent. Ethan's sword flashed brightly out of the corner of my eye. This was nearing an end.

Yet it came before any of us were really ready. Fast as the deadly horse flying above, Ethan lunged in with his sword and knocked Annabeth aside. The blade went skidding to one side in the process. Then there was a bright flash above him, an evil glint from his hand, a wicked dagger outlined by starlight. With a wild yell he plunged it down at Percy's undefended back. Annabeth lurched forward, ready to throw herself between them, but I knew in a heartbeat she was too late.

For the smallest moment, fear sparked in my chest. Percy Jackson wasn't ours to kill. He never was. He was for Kronos, we'd been told. The one who killed him was to be punished.

And now I knew exactly what that meant.

Then Hunter's eyes began to glow. Annabeth moved faster, faster than I could think, a soft golden glow around her that matched my cousin's irises.

And she was there, between Ethan and Percy, dagger buried in her shoulder.

A pained, choked sound escaped her as she collapsed. There was a blurred motion that bewildered me - too fast for me to tell what or who or why - and a hard smack accented the end of her cry. Ethan gasped and stumbled back, nearly toppling over.

Percy stood over Annabeth, a scowl on his face and Riptide swinging in a large arch. Our beat shattered, everyone leapt back desperately to avoid it. His furious howl was so sharp, it reminded me of Kronos, words snapping like a whip. "_Get back! No one touches her!"_

"Interesting."

Now I leapt to the side, Hunter following me and Brook going the other way, as Kronos stalked forward on his skeletal mount. It was the last horse I could hear in my head. A cruel smile was on his face, as if he found the whole seen amusing. Golden eyes glittered happily, fixed on Percy, absorbing every detail like he could never ever get enough. "Bravely fought, Percy Jackson. But it's time to surrender…" He pondered for a moment, figuring out the best way to make an emphasis. He kept it simple. "Or the girl dies."

"Percy, don't," Annabeth groaned into the pavement. Every demigod and monster from Mount Othrys hung back, well aware that to interfere was to damn themselves to whatever Kronos wanted to do.

Breathing hard - I hadn't noticed when I'd run out of breath until the fight was over - I waited for the tension to build. For the air around us to electrify and Percy snap back defiantly. But that's not what happened.

"Blackjack!"

In a flash, the black pegasus was there and gone. Kids yelped and dove out of his way. Hunter cursed and I turned to see the winged horse rising in the sky, Annabeth hanging limp from his jaws.

A growl rumbled in Kronos throat, the one that made me squirm. Images of the dark-haired boy flashed in front of my eyes. "Some day soon, I am going to make pegasus soup. But in the meantime…"

He slid off his horse, which bobbed its head and decided to stand behind me. Percy's gaze flickered to me then back to Kronos, who had drawn his scythe and was stalking forward, lithe as a prowling cat. His white smile seemed to have fangs. "I'll settle for another dead demigod."

The last thing I wanted to do was look away, but just as their blades clashed, I felt Brook tug on my arm. She'd moved around Kronos to us. I tore my gaze from the Titan - if anyone could kill Percy, it was him, anyway - and turned to her.

She was trembling, silver eyes wide, brown curls a dull and bloody mess of frizz poking out from her helm. As my gaze met hers she cried out softly and grabbed my arm, squeezing it like it was the last source of oxygen on earth, head buried in my sleeve.

The sight put a crack straight through my chest. "Brook…"

Then, rather suddenly, the clash of blades stopped. I whirled around, sword raised and Brook behind me, heart thudding like mad and prepared to put up a fight. But Kronos and Percy had stopped with the blades and were glaring at one another.

"So…" Kronos spat, panting, eyes carefully guarded. He looked… annoyed. "You had the courage to visit the Styx."

Brook tugged on my arm again, stealing my attention from the Titan's next words. "What?"

She pointed down at Kyle wordlessly. A pool of ominous red blood had gathered beneath his helm, trailing off into the cracks in the road.

"We know, honey," Hunter whispered without taking her gaze from her father.

Then Kronos's voice cut the air like a knife again. What I heard didn't make sense, but it screamed of something bad about to happen. "I am a _TITAN."_

Having lived in Seattle, I've had my fair share of earthquakes. The worst I'd felt was a three on that magnitude scale people used to measure them.

This was nothing like that.

It was more like being flung out of a catapult. The bridge shuddered dangerously and then disappeared entirely with a flash of light. Wind screamed as it whipped past my ears. Then I crashed into the ground, losing every bit of air, for a moment completely oblivious to my surroundings and lost in the struggle for oxygen and against the stinging pain.

At last I opened my eyes and lifted my head. I was sprawled on the bridge, a good distance from where I'd been before. In fact… Everyone was. Hunter was to my left, Brook right in front of me. Ethan had landed near the bridge's edge and was spitting gravel out of his mouth. His nose, either from Percy or the landing, was squashed flat and a livid crimson.

Up ahead, where we had stood, was only Kronos. Percy was getting to his feet a long way beyond. It was then that I realized it'd been the Titan - he'd blasted us all away, us towards Brooklyn and Percy towards Manhattan.

Kronos began to stalk forward again, towards Percy, scythe glittering in the dawn's light.

Then, because of course things weren't bad enough, the bridge began to shake. Like, _shake._ Like the world was one giant cell phone set to vibrate. Pebbles and rocks began to jump and shift on the concrete. I yelped and staggered to my feet, the ground rocking beneath, pitching wildly.

Oh,_ Styx_ no. I had been dumped in the water when we boarded the _Princess Andromeda,_ when it'd blown up, and when the boat had upturned in the East River. I was _not _going to go through that again.

"Run! It's gonna blow!" Herald screamed as he ran by, sprinting for Brooklyn. On his heels was Nick, who looked like he'd seen a ghost. Or twenty.

An ear-splitting crack seemed to split the world itself, and the bridge jerked wildly. Down towards Manhattan, geysers of water were erupting straight out of the concrete.

"_Run!"_ I yelled, grabbing Brook and bolting. Hunter had already gotten to her feet, and Ethan wasn't far behind. My heart was pounding like crazy and my limbs felt hollow, as if they were made of ash. The sick taste of death bathed my tongue.

But at the moment, I didn't care. I just ran.

I didn't stop until I ran into the buildings across the street. A deafening roar rumbled across the sky and the ground trembled beneath my feet. Frantically, I looked around for cover. The closest thing was a thin ally way to my right. I called out - or I think I did, because I couldn't hear it - and bolted.

We got there, Brook still being dragged behind me, just as a creaking noise started. It was quieter than the bridge's thunder but much, much closer. I turned and my stomach clenched. The bridge was swaying back and forth like a string, concrete and metal bending like wet paper. Massive chunks broke loose and crashed into the water below as if they were nothing more than glorified pebbles. The mighty groan from nearby was a lamppost, beginning to lean and tear from the force. Ethan and Hunter were not far behind us, running for the ally.

They got there as the post fell, crashing against the buildings we hid in like a massive bolt lock missing the door. Beyond, the Williamsburg bridge continued to thrash, a living animal caught in death throes. Its tortured screams grated my ears.

Then, with a sound like great thunder, the whole center of the bridge gave way and plunged into the river. Water splashed up into the air like fireworks. The earth gave one last mighty heave beneath our feet - I had grabbed onto Ethan, and him to Hunter and the wall, Brook cramped somewhere between us - and then was still. The last cables and blocks from the bridge dropped into oblivion like sad crumbs left behind after the biggest meal in history.

I dimly wondered if Hunter knew what the biggest meal in history _was._ It seemed like something she'd know. The idea was so hilarious, I laughed once, a barking, strained, crazy sound.

On the edge of what remained of the bridge, looking across the river into Manhattan where Percy stood, was Kronos. Straight-backed, head high, scythe drawn. He glanced back over the buildings at the rising sun and then turned back. I could hear the grin in his voice. He raised his scythe in a mock salute and called, "Until this evening, Jackson."

Then he whistled. _Call! Rider calls!_ The lone skeletal horse trotted up to him and he mounted, galloping past us and into the street somewhere to our left. I lost track of him through the buildings on either side.

oOo

I turned back to the chasm over the East River, panting, heart racing like a startled rabbit. Something told me that if I'd fallen into the water that day, it wouldn't be like the past times at all. I wouldn't climb _out _of it.

"…Guys?"

"Brook, honey," Hunter crooned, and wrenched her way out of our panicked huddle. The alley was hardly wide enough for two people to stand abreast. Ethan stumbled back to give them room and ran into the lamppost that was blocking our way out. Well, one of them. The other was just to turn around and head in the general direction Kronos had.

Over their heads, Ethan's wide eye met mine. His ruined nose looked painful, but he paid it no mind.

I swallowed thickly. "…Kyle…"

He snapped his eye shut and held up a hand. "Don't. Not now. This isn't the place."

Brook, who was sobbing now, shook her head. "E… Ethan's right."

"Ssh, honey. Ssh," Hunter whispered.

"Did-did you see what w-we've done?" Brook choked.

I glanced at Ethan, but he looked as bewildered as I felt. "…Percy broke the bridge. I saw him playing with water," I said lamely.

She shook her head. Already, her sobs had been stemmed to just tears. Brook was like that. She rubbed her sleeve under her nose and said, "That whole fight, neither of them killed anyone. Percy or Annabeth. But _we _did."

oOo

**Nyx: Okay! Yay, fight scene. Took forever to write, but oh well.**

**Nic: Thank you to those who reviewed! And we were added to our first Community, which is good. Thanks whoever did that!**

**Nyx: One thing that many of you, especially those who have not read what was posted of Daughter of Time, might not know… This has already been written. The rough drafts are nearly finished. For ALL FIVE books. Yes, this is a five-book series, four if I decide to crunch when I do the final drafts. The finals are what I write every week and post (yes I know I have a lot of typos… I will have a day where I go through and correct all those).**

**Nic: Three years doesn't just result in what you've already read. We really have been working hard on this for a while.**

**Nyx: If you cannot tell, I plan to be an author one day.**

**Nic: As far as the poll, nobody voted on Hetalia. The new one is favorite PJatO/HoO book.**

**Nyx: Personally, I'm torn between TLO and MoA. Lost so much sleep over both. As far as the cover, it was completed, but after some consideration I found its message to be a little too dark. I have not started editing yet, but it will not be complicated and it should be up by next week. **

**Nic: But you know what's up right now? The next chapter! Woot!**


	39. Killer

**DISCLAIMER: Rick Riordan owns PJatO and HoO. We do not. We just love it to death. And stalk him, just a little bit…**

oOo

I saw the raven again that day, when I slept. But he didn't notice me. I'd say that I didn't know why, especially after he'd sworn he'd kill me if I invaded his privacy again, but the truth is I know. Not the specifics, but I know.

I guess I heard more than saw him. It was dark, the mist, hard to see through. It had a forbidding sense to it. I dimly wondered if this was my dream-conjured world or, in fact, the state his mind was in at the time. A lonely, sorrowful keening echoed from someplace unseen. But it was him. I was sure. The sound was so heartbroken, though, it was hard to imagine. This was the insane, sadistic brother who'd laughed at my pain? _He _made this sound? Well, theoretically, a madman wasn't supposed to make sense. But something about this seemed very solid. Down-to-earth. And dreadfully so, because the laments told of something better left unsaid. Unnoticed. A horrible sound, a harsh pain, something much too real. Something he couldn't escape.

It almost, _almost,_ made me want to find him and ask what was wrong. Was this something our dark magic had done to him? Was this what I was in for? It almost made me want to help him.

Yet when I woke, I still had no idea what'd upset him so much.

oOo

I cracked open my eyes and looked around. A thin pillow lay beneath my head. The scent of smoke was heavy in the air, mixing with the sharp tang of overgrown grass. The air was hot and heavy with moisture, like a damp, smothering blanket.

Up above, the sky was peppered with a field of clouds, weak sunlight filtering through. To my right, for I slept on my stomach, was a bed of coals still leaking heat. Near my head slept Brook. On her other side, also crowded next to the fire's remains, was Hunter. Then Ethan, Herald, and by my feet, Nick.

My stomach clenched as I at last recalled the night before. The fight on Williamsburg Bridge. Brook's realization that besides Jaden, killed by archers, and Kyle, killed by a pegasus, the Olympian's hadn't killed a single demigod. But Kronos had killed them with his armies every chance he got. And when he'd blasted us back at the bridge, he'd sent Wren and Chris over the edge of the bridge himself.

I shuddered and lifted my head, staring at our tent. It had fallen apart for some reason. Around the clearing people were talking, armor was clinking, feet were shuffling in the tall grass. Monsters were conversing in that clacking, clattering language they had. I was too tired to focus on what they were saying. My limbs felt like they'd been made of lead, and my head of fluff. I dimly remembered some dream I'd had and thought of some importance, but it slipped my grasp.

Sleep was not something that came naturally to me, but it was daytime, and I'd always felt easier sleeping while the sun was out. Not to mention that despite the few hours I'd had already, I felt like I'd pass out if I tried to stand. So, feeling hopeful, I laid my head back down and tried to fall asleep.

Though of course, right then, someone nearby decided to start talking.

"Hey. Hey, kid. Get up. Kronos wants us for some stupid peace mission thing."

"No," Ethan grumbled. I opened an eye and saw him sleepily swatting away a man in a suit, who was shaking his shoulder. "Go away, Prometheus."

"I'll tell Kronos you said that."

"I'm up, I'm up," Ethan groaned, and sat up rubbing his head. "Nt. I'm guessing Titans don't need to sleep?"

"Not much, even in a demigod body," Prometheus smiled coldly. "Come on. We better get going."

Ethan grumbled again about sleepwalking and got up, following obediently.

I let out a long breath, not thinking much of it. I didn't really care what false peace plans Kronos had - I remembered dimly him saying something about offering a jar as a gift - and buried my head in the pillow once more, dreading four o'clock, when I'd have to get up and march into battle once more.

Wonder I'd managed to do it the first few times. I'd probably end up killed by Kronos, anyway.

oOo

Ethan had been having nightmares about all sorts of torture Kronos could inflict. Torches, whips, mind tricks, a good, old-fashioned club.

But he had ever once imagined that the Titan would force upon him a _lack of sleep._ He wished, though, that he'd seen it coming, because it was one killer punishment.

Not to mention Kronos had dragged him off to meet _Percy,_ whom Ethan was still mad at for squishing his nose and blowing up the ship and his stupid, suicidal love for the Olympians. His _family,_ he'd called them.

_Family_ was the last word that'd come to Ethan's mind when he thought of them. And they were the last thing he thought of when someone said _family._ No, that just conjured up the image of him sitting on a park bench next to his father, holding hands, as if it were a normal day. It had been, until just moments later. Just a walk in the park. At the time, Ethan had no idea what'd drive anyone to such a thing, nor any sort of comprehension for the whole concept.

But that was the day he'd begun to learn.

He sighed roughly and continued to shuffle his feet, reminding himself that one had to go in front of the other in order to move, staring at his sneakers dully. They moved from thick grass to the cement floor of the warehouse. He could hear Kronos talking in the back. Oh, good, the Crooked One himself was here. Ethan could give his report - Percy had taken the vase, and hopefully he'd open it and surrender soon - and head back to his cot with the rest of the Guard to sleep. Sleep. Aw, man, sleep sounded good right about now….

"Hey, Dad?"

Ethan hesitated. That was Hunter's voice. And previously, he wouldn't be afraid to walk in, but things between Hunter and Kronos recently… It made him think twice, even as dazed as he was.

"Yes, Daughter?"

"…What's the difference between how Olympus gains followers, and how you gain yours? Percy hardly seemed forced into anything."

"Smart observation. I thought you'd make it earlier than you have." Ethan could imagine Hunter flinch. But Kronos kept talking, in that smooth voice he had. "As far as the answer… Well, now, say I handed you a dog. You need to train it to act like a police dog, or a hunting partner. Same thing, really." Now Ethan flinched. "How would you train it?"

Kronos had forbidden Hunter to say 'stupid hesitations,' such as "Um…" or "Hm…" or "Uh…" when speaking to him, but Ethan smiled as he imaged the look on her face as she fought one of those back. "I would teach it," she said eventually, "the actuality of things. I'd feed it and brush it and make sure it stayed well. Then I'd give it a coonskin to play with. Drag it across the dog and let the dog track it. If it succeeded, I'd give it a treat, and if it failed I'd try again and again until it deserves the treat and therefore a break. Seems how you ought to train a dog. That's how you train us, isn't it?" The smallest, almost untraceable amount of venom leaked into her last sentence.

Kronos was silent. The hairs on the back of Ethan's neck stood up. It was not a good silence. It was a cold, calculating one. He was preparing to make an impression.

And it wasn't a good one.

"Hunter."

"Yes, Sir?" Formal speaking now. This wasn't good. Steeling his nerves, Ethan crept closer, hiding behind the aisle shelves.

"Tell me, as simply as you can, what you have trained your dog to do."

"Hunt coons, or whatever I want, I guess, and defend myself."

"Oh, really?" An icy silence settled over them for a moment. Ethan crept closer. "When, exactly, did you teach it to defend you?"

"When I took care of it."

"No, that does nothing. You're training a hunter. An _assassin,_ if that makes a better picture in your mind. You hardly taught it to hunt, too."

"But it tracked and-"

"SILENCE, GIRL!"

And silence there was.

"Listen to me," Kronos said, breathing heavily, "when I speak to you. You trained that dog _nothing._ You have achieved _nothing._ Nothing good, anyway. Do I train my armies like you trained that dog? Do I train assassins that way? Absolutely not. You wouldn't believe how disappointed I am in you."

Another brief silence. Then he said, quietly, icily calm, "You don't teach a dog to kill by stroking it. You don't teach an assassin, a predator, a fine-toned killer, to fight by caring for it. The only thing that does is teach it to _love _you. And what good does that do?"

Carefully, hiding behind a barrel of weapons, Ethan peeked his head around so he could see them. His tiredness was long forgotten. Hunter stood at attention in the cleared area in the back of the warehouse. Clearly, they had been training. Kronos stood before her, scythe drawn, golden eyes raking lazily across its surface. Golden eyes glinted coldly.

Ethan had a bad feeling about this, for he'd seen it before.

"You can't teach an assassin's work through love. That's ridiculous. The only thing love will do is destroy what meager progress you built. Love destroys weapons. That dog, that hunter, will pant and follow you around an let its claws wither away and become blunt by walking in your footsteps. Teach it to love, and it learns to love _others._ To love something or someone is to destroy yourself, and the one you love.

"I can't believe my own daughter would give me such an answer."

There was silence. Hunter stared ahead, gaze burning a hole in the air in front of her, trembling with either anger or the effort to resist snapping back.

It didn't matter, though. It didn't change what Kronos had in mind. Fast as lightning, hardly anything but a gold and white blur. he whirled around. There was a sharp _crack _and suddenly he was there, towering over Hunter, eyes cold and furious. Her head had been jerked to the side and her cheek had turned bright red.

Something squirmed in Ethan's stomach and he sank lower behind the barrel. Nobody was supposed to see this. No one, not monster or Titan or demigod.

Slowly, Kronos raised his hand as if to hit her again. Something with sharp claws grabbed Ethan's throat. But the Titan only rested his hand on his scythe and leaned on it, crossing his legs, eyes fixed on his daughter. "I have raised you better, have I not?"

Silence.

His voice grew colder and quieter. "Have I not?"

Two more seconds of Hunter refusing to respond, his hands flashed down and grabbed the shaft of the scythe. Fast as lightning, he spun it around, and with the end foot or so of the shaft, cracked it against her side so hard it echoed and she cringed, stepping back two paces and losing her perfect posture, one arm gripped around where she'd been hit. Though she refused to cry out, Ethan saw the pain flash in her eyes.

That was what hurt the most. That's what always had, even way back when he'd first seen it, the day he'd really met Kyle. The pain went deeper than the physical whack of a stick. It cut down an emotional level, a mental one, a horrible thing that she didn't dare speak of. The sight made his throat burn and teeth grind. Gods - no, just Nemesis, really, if her - knew how much he hated to see that.

But there was nothing he could do for her. Not here, not now. Sure, his plot with Herald might work in the long-term, but for as of right now Hunter was on her own. He was powerless to do anything.

Kronos sighed as his daughter. "Stand up straight, girl."

Hunter grit her teeth and straightened, staring once more straight ahead.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "To answer your original question, that is the difference between the Olympians and I. They teach their demigods to love them. Oh, the precious Olympians, who gave them life and show them values and gave them a camp and love them back. That is what Percy Jackson has been told. That is what Annabeth believes. False stories of pretty pictures and love and the resulting dull weapons. Would you not agree?"

"Percy sword felt plenty sharp to me," Hunter said in a simple monotone.

"It is an illusion of power," Kronos countered just as casually. Once more, his scythe flashed out, this time slamming down on her shoulder. The force caused her knees to buckle and waist to bend until she was half her real height, clutching her shoulder with a white-knuckled hand. After a few seconds of grinding her teeth, she slowly straightened again.

"What I teach _my _assassins, my dogs, my armies, is different," Kronos continued as if it hadn't happened. "For one, I do my best not to lie. Only the necessities, and you know there are always a few of those. I also work to _their _benefit as much as to my own, for I realize they are much the same for the time being. The Olympians cannot say the same. They do not sharpen claws. They do not tell the truth. They do not establish the fact that they are the world for their demigods. They do not build solid rules and make sure that their demigods know their place. They are not, as you would put it, 'control freaks.' Nor do they receive the obedience that I do. Their demigods are wild and out of control. They leave on quests of their own accord and fight as their wont. Not Olympus's. Such a weak rule Zeus has. Strange, that you, my own daughter, would take to this form of complete and utter fatality."

Then the scythe was in action again, _whooshing _through the air with the sharp crack of impact splitting the air every half second. A horrible sense of dread and fear settled in Ethan's stomach. The scythe's shaft - sometimes with the weight of the blade behind it - struck Hunter across the arm and other shoulder and the back of her knees, forcing her to a kneel. And, finally, the wicked stick slammed brutally into her back. That forced a small gasp of breath and pain from her lips.

Ethan felt like he'd be sick. He knew why Hunter didn't fight back. He'd seen once when she'd caught Kronos's scythe in her hand mid-swing. It hadn't ended well.

Kronos, seemingly satisfied by that small little sound, smiled. He drew his scythe back and leaned on it casually once more. "Now, Daughter. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Hunter spat through clenched teeth.

He paid her tone no mind, for she was on her knees in front of him, as powerless as Ethan was. "Is there something else you had on your mind?"

"Just one."

"Then speak it, girl, because silence will get you killed."

Ethan flinched. Silence could very well save her. Silence would save him and kill someone else.

"What would you say drives you to work with us, then, if you chose not to care like others do? What makes you care for your army?"

"And what makes me care for you?" Kronos finished for her. She was silent.

His smile grew and he knelt in front of her, grabbing her chin in his hand and tilting her head up so that she looked at him with spiteful gold eyes. "That is," he whispered, "a very different kind of love. That I have for them. And mine for you… Let it be a weakness. It does not seem to be something I can control. I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to you."

Hunter closed her eyes and Kronos waited. A silence thick as blood had settled over the room.

Ethan's heart was thudding angrily against his chest. He could still hear the crack of the scythe's shaft. It wasn't the kind of repercussion he gave others in the army. It wasn't the usual thwack-and-dismiss method that installed the fear-fed discipline on the rest of the demigods. It was cruelty. It was failure to contain himself. It was… It was frustration and hate coming out as Kronos wanted them to, with no care for her. He didn't love her. Ethan knew it. You don't _hit someone_ and then swear you'd be torn up if something happened to them.

And Ethan could say that now. He knew because he knew family now. He knew Bree and Brook and Hunter. What he felt for them did not incline him to _hit them_ for a question, for questioning his authority, for answering an inquiry as honestly as they could. Gods knew how badly he wanted to clout them over the ear and knock some sense into them, or thwack Bree with his sword until she got the idea that she'd die if she kept moving so slow, but not ever to put them in their place. Not to break them beyond talking back and coming up with ideas. Not to tell them he was in charge.

He looked up to watch Hunter get dismissed and make her leave, striding down one of the side aisles with a small limp due to the new marks on her shoulders and side. As she went, Ethan caught sight of blood staining her jacket. His heart would've stopped if he hadn't seen it before.

He watched her go, choked up, torn. He couldn't run after her. He couldn't tell her that he knew. Her father would find out. He had spies everywhere, and if he ever - Fates forbid - decided to beat information from her, heartily beat her, he would know that Ethan knew. And then Ethan would be screwed.

He bit his tongue and shook his head angrily, backing up the aisle quietly and prepared to walk in as if he had just arrived. He cared for Hunter, he did. He wanted so badly for this to stop.

But who could he tell? Prometheus? Atlas? There was not a soul in the world right now that could put a stop to Kronos. Not even Ethan, backed by his deal with Nemesis or not.

"Ah, Nakamura!" Kronos smiled as Ethan knocked tentatively on a shelf to announce his presence. "I had a few questions for you… Nakamura? Are you ill? If something should spread among us now…"

Ethan shook his head, grinding his teeth and praying Kronos could not tell. "No, my lord, just tired. The meeting was a success. Percy took the vase. He swore he wouldn't open it, but he took it."

"_Pithos,_ Ethan, not a vase. Pandora's pithos, no less. When Percy is ready to let Hope go, he will uncap it. And he will lose hope very soon, I assure you. Now go get some rest before you _do _start an epidemic, please. That would be very unfortunate."

"Yes, my lord," Ethan said, and, afraid of overstaying his welcome, left in a rush.

oOo

"You sure you got everything?" Ethan hissed, glancing over his shoulder. The sun was nearing the point Ethan knew marked four. The army would be waking soon.

Herald sighed, but cast his own glance through the trees. The fringes of the camp were completely invisible way out here. Hopefully, out of earshot, too. "Of course I am, dog. Worried your leash is going to get shorter?"

"That's why we're here, isn't it?" Ethan muttered.

Herald chuckled darkly. "I guess it is." From his pocket he pulled a small case. "Did you bring your half?"

"I bring it everywhere I go," Ethan muttered, and drew the gun from its holster. Herald's eyes sparked with fear when he saw it. That was good, Ethan figured. This whole thing was about trust, but knowing Herald, it was best to have some sort of leverage on him.

Herald narrowed his eyes, quickly hiding his doubts. "Does it work?"

"Of course it does," Ethan muttered.

"Have you seen it in the past month?"

"Well…"

Herald sighed and opened the small case, revealing row after row of small bullets. "Take your pick."

Ethan, by instinct, reached for the one on the end.

Herald's hand stopped him. "Not that one. That's the one, and I don't have the materials or time to get another one made."

"Right," Ethan said, taking a different bullet. He had rarely used a gun before, but he knew enough. He clicked it into place, flipped off the safety, and held the weapon out in front of him. "Plug your ears."

Herald glanced at Ethan, then at the tree he was aiming at. "…You want me to fire it, bro?"

"Why shouldn't I? You said you've never held one before."

"Shouldn't someone with depth perception fire, though?"

The suggestion was so ridiculous to Ethan that at first he didn't understand. When it clicked, hot embarrassment burned in his throat and he fixed Herald under the best glare he could manage. Nobody had ever said that about his eye before.

The shorter boy held up his hands, one still holding the bullets. "Alright, alright! Sorry!"

Ethan rolled his eye, checked his aim again real fast, and yanked the trigger before he could change his mind.

The kick of the gun reminded him of a striking sword being parried, and the explosion of… Well, of the same thing all gunfire reminded him of.

He waited, tense, as the ring of the shot faded out over the trees. When nobody burst out of the brush and started screaming at them, he relaxed, and let the gun drop to his side. With his thumb, he turned the safety back on.

Herald took his fingers from his ears and walked over to the tree, examining the new gash in its bark. "Is that where you were aiming?"

"Exactly."

"Are you usually that good a shot?"

"I don't really do this often, but no, that wasn't really too hard," Ethan muttered.

A wicked smile crossed Herald's face. "Then this should be easy."

"It won't be," Ethan growled, wishing Herald wouldn't joke like that. "Are you _positive _that bullet's going to do anything?"

"A hundred and ten percent sure," Herald confirmed. From the package, he drew the bullet at the end of the first row. Nothing marked it as special, safe the slight blue tint to the back end that Ethan hadn't seen before. "Load it into the gun and keep it there. Don't lost it. It's the only one we got."

Ethan sighed and took it, locking it into the handgun. "Right. Right. You know how to work it in case I'm dead?"

"You just pull the trigger, right?"

"You have to toggle off the safety first," Ethan said, demonstrating. "But other than that, yes. The bullet will do the rest."

"That's crazy, man," Herald said, motioning for Ethan to hand him the gun. Ethan didn't think twice about it before giving it to him. _"Humans_ are crazy. You'd think they're the ones fighting demons, not us."

"Titans," Ethan corrected as he took the gun back and sheathed it. "You're right, though I think humans face different kinds of demons." His mind flashed back on his father, and he'd never been more sure of the fact. Yes, humans had their own demons to fight.

And as a demigod, he was supposed to juggle both those and the physical demons. Joy.

"Remember," Ethan said sternly, because his father also reminded him of something else, "not until Olympus has fallen. The gods are our biggest enemy, not him. And he's the only one that can bring them down. So we wait until they're gone to do it, alright? No matter what happens?"

"I ain't stupid, man," Herald muttered. "I got it."

"Don't be afraid to fire it, though," Ethan warned softly. What he'd seen done to Hunter earlier still felt fresh. He heard Kronos telling him of a future where not a citizen stepped out of line, there was not one criminal, because they all were scared of the Crooked One, as Kronos thought they ought to be. He'd talked of burning the world to ashes and building castles out of the soot. Putting humans back in the dark, like they'd been before they'd discovered fire, where he said they deserved to be. "We can't leave the world to what he wants to do."

"I know, man, I know. You nervous about something? You seem jumpy," Herald said, closing the bullet case and sliding them into his pack.

Ethan chuckled nervously. "Who wouldn't be?"

"Yeah, I'd be pretty mad if I got my nose flattened, too."

Ethan flung his fist outward in a playful punch. Herald ducked beneath it and came up with a failed - for Herald had never been very agile, even as a cat - round-house kick. Ethan rolled his eye and turned to make back to camp before they were missed.

Herald followed on his heels. "…You're not nervous about your part of this, are you? You've been gathering… More than the gun?"

"Oh, don't worry about that," Ethan muttered. "So long you know who to ask, there's lots of them who won't put up much of a fight. Especially if they feel they're not alone."

"Hope so, man, else we're in for Tartarus for the rest of our lives and beyond," Herald sighed.

Ethan, who considered himself a pessimistic realist, nodded. "Very true. Though we'll kind of end up like that if we didn't do it, either."

"You know what?" Herald muttered.

"Hm?"

"I hate you."

"Good to know."

oOo

**Nyx: Okay, we are nearing the climax. Tensions are building. Characters are showing their true colors, or at least different sides that we haven't seen before.**

**Nic: As a result, plots are beginning to form. Stress is being put on our four friends. They must stick together to survive… Hey, Nyx? Where exactly were we going with this?**

**Nyx: Idk, building action? Maybe a little bit of explanation?**

**Nic: Alright… Readers! Please click the next chapter button before she cuts her foot open again!**

**Nyx: That was NOT my fault, for the record!**


	40. Safe Havens

**DISCLAIMER: We do not own PJatO. Rick Riordan does. Nor do we own Life of Pi… Black Butler… Titanic… Narnia… Gosh, what other things have we mentioned in this book…**

oOo

"You still carry that stuff, even here?" Brook asked, cocking her head to one side. "You mean you had it on you when the ship exploded?"

Hunter patted the last of the foundation on her cheek with her fingers and snapped the lid back on the bottle. "Yep. You know how obsessed Kronos is with looking flawless for the enemy. Figured I better keep it close."

I nodded in agreement. "You should've heard him insist I start using eye shadow."

"I've never seen you in more than eyeliner," Brook said. At the same time, Hunter barked, "You should've seen him try to lecture me on the birds and the bees."

We all laughed nervously, doing our best to pretend tensions weren't high. Around us, the army was waking, and we knew that in a few hours, we'd be marching out into battle again. A full-scale battle this time, not a skirmish on a ramp or a crowd of demigods around Percy Jackson but a real battle, like the one at the Labyrinth.

"He wants you to look scary," Hunter told me reassuringly. "Nothing to worry about. If you're scary, people don't mess with you. And I know what people say about how you dress, but personally I think it's what looks best on you. You're pretty."

Ever since the tension of the fight had come down on us, Hunter had seemed to set aside, almost forget our argument. For the time being.

We fell silent as Ethan jogged up from the warehouse, looking tired but functional. He grunted and sat down next to us. "Hello."

"What did Dad want?" Hunter asked, cocking her head to one side.

Ethan shrugged. "He wanted to know about the fight last night. Where I'd been trying to stab Percy."

"He said something about bathing in the Styx last night," I remembered glumly. As the legends go, the greatest warrior of all time was Achilles. Because his mother had dumped him into the Styx, the River, capital-R River, the one that burned away the very essence of what some might call a soul and what you had to cross to get into Hades. Because he'd had his mother's blessing (obviously), it had granted him invincibility save the spot on his heel where his mother had held him. It made him stronger, faster, and increased his character flaws. He'd gotten cocky and been shot in the foot and died, of course.

Now, I saw images of Întuneric bouncing harmlessly off Percy's shoulder and Riptide bouncing off Kronos's chest as if were made of rubber.

"He wants to know where the heel is," I muttered.

"Hm?" Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow at me as he drew a granola bar from his back and began to eat. More like butcher.

"I think…. You know how Luke gave his life to let Kronos take over his body? Wouldn't a Titan burn a demigod body away?"

"Well, duh, everybody wonders how they did it," Hunter muttered. Ethan looked like he was about to say something but thought better of it.

"Well, I think he took on Achilles's curse. He got his mother's blessing and took a dip in the Styx. And I think Percy, in an effort to counter him, did the same."

"Not a bad theory," Ethan sighed, getting out another granola bar.

"One thing, though," Brook said. "Wouldn't Luke still be alive, then, if he'd been strengthened by the Curse?"

"The Curse weakens, too, but I think you're right," Hunter said, eyes widening. "Do you think…?"

Ethan stared at his breakfast, suddenly quiet.

I got a cold feeling in my chest. "…Ethan?"

He didn't put up a fight. "…Luke is alive. I've seen him. He fights back. He's not very comfortable where he is, but he's there alright. Hunter's seen it, too."

Ethan, now, as much as I'd love to say I trusted him, I could see hiding that. Less so after he'd come out about Kronos's punishment methods, but definitely plausible. Especially if Kronos had threatened him over it. But Hunter?

I turned to her, staring. "…And you never thought to mention it?"

"Hey, it wasn't just me. It was Ethan and Nick and I think Jaden who saw it, too. He told us not to tell anyone. Besides, it seemed like something personal. You know, like a bad rash in a bad place. Luke just kind of throws fits all over again, like a rash having its setbacks. And anyway, it seems kinda nasty to go around talking about catching my dad scratching his-"

"We get it," Brook said flatly, glaring at her own granola bar as if disgusted.

Ethan chuckled at her discomfort and started on his fourth bar. "So, do you guys know where we're headed? Last I checked, Kronos was still deciding."

Hunter shook her head. "He's not coming with us this time. He's going to mix us and a few other demigods in with an attack on Central Park. Hyperion is going to lead."

I choked on my Honey Bun. "Hyperion? The glowing dude?"

"The Titan of the East," Hunter corrected. "Yes, the glowing dude. Our best warrior, save Atlas."

"…Alright," Brook said, chewing thoughtfully now. "The Reservoir is going to be a problem, though, if they can force us to move around it and approach few at a time. They could slaughter us almost easily like that."

"Well, we'll have a massive glowing sun Titan on our side," Ethan muttered. "They won't last long. Kronos hopes to end this fast. If not end it tonight, he at least wants to capture some part of Manhattan."

"He's not too worried about it taking too long, is he?" Brook murmured. "Even if the Olympians get here with Typhon before this is over… They'll be preoccupied. And half dead already. If this turns into a war of attrition, we're going to win."

"I'd hate to see the price tag on that," Ethan muttered, tossing eight empty granola bar wrappers into his bag. Then he got to his feet, stretching. "Oh, and I spoke to Kronos about the… Ah, discoveries on the ship." He glanced around at the crowd. "He said we have to discuss it later. There's no time to do anything right now, not reform or even continue his little project he had going on, because all efforts are put into the battle."

"Makes sense," Hunter said, and got up after him.

"No it doesn't," I muttered. "Someone _else _is going to die every day we wait on this. I hope you know that."

There was a brief moment of silence as we remembered Brianna on the ship. Man, now I really wished we'd taken her with us…

Hunter huffed and glared at me, angry for some reason I didn't care to identify right then. "Come on, guys. We have things to do before the fight starts. Someone's going to be mad if we don't get them done."

oOo

Ethan stood next to Hunter. The air seemed to prickling with tension. Now he knew why – the complicated balance of things she was trying to achieve was thrown out of balance every time Bree spoke of Kronos torturing someone. It probably scared her, too.

Ha. Hunter, scared. It wasn't an easy thing to imagine.

On her other side stood Kronos. Behind them, the warehouse was crowded only with its stone statues. There was no one inside. They were all out here, in the yard, tents rolled up and fires stomped out and heavily armed. They were gathering into groups and talking nervously, some silent. A few were eating last-minute snacks. Those must be the new reinforcements from Mount Othrys, Ethan realized – they were probably going to regret eating right before a fight later.

Some of the attack forces had already left. Most of them, actually, for this was the last one. Hyperion stood fifteen feet tall at the edge of the clearing next to the neon sign. The cursive letters had changed from green and pink to bright, bright gold. The Titan himself shone like a beacon. He cast light across the leaves and the grass and made armor sparkle. The brightest part of him was his blinding smile – a proud sun, ready to take back his place.

"My lord? Is there a reason you called us here?" Ethan asked tentatively, watching the rest of the Guard. They stood halfway across the clearing. Nick was snapping at Bree for standing too close to him. Bree, being Bree, growled something about getting close enough to snap his neck. Nick fell silent.

"Well," Kronos drawled, thinking. "For one, I guess I have decided to make the two of you co-leaders of the Guard. You very well may need someone to yell out orders during a fight. And seeing you here with me reinforces that authority. Then I'll vanish, and you two start barking orders, and…" He shrugged. "They'll follow."

Ethan dimly recalled Kronos's conversation with Hunter about training dogs and sighed.

"Now," Kronos continued, "we're moving out in a few minutes. Nakamura, I trust you had everything organized?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Hunter? Did you complete the task I gave you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I'll look at the ones you picked later and see if they're good enough. The Guard might be running low on numbers, but mind you, I'd rather have it small than filled with idiots."

There was a moment of silence. Ethan was thinking of Jaden and Chris and Wren and Kyle. He didn't really feel grief for any of them, at least not yet, but it seemed wrong to search for replacements. He knew it was silly, but… Still.

"Hunter?" Kronos said softly. "Give the signal to move out. Nakamura, I want you to repeat it and follow her around as her second. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Sir," Hunter said.

"Yes, my lord."

"Then get a move on," Kronos said, and turned to enter the warehouse. As he crossed the threshold, he paused, hand twitching.

Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, a strangled yelp escaped him and his head whipped to one side. One arm jerked and twisted, jumping around in wild spasms. Another yelp scraped past his lips, and his head turned back, and this time Ethan saw – blue eyes. Not gold, blue.

Luke.

Kronos ducked inside and hid behind a shelf. Ethan could hear him cursing and fighting against the seizure. Something crashed to the floor and shattered.

Hunter, who knew as well as he did what was going on, stared after him. "…Dad?" There was a genuine concern in her voice.

_Are you serious?_ Ethan thought. _You still care for him after all he's done to you?_

Too late, he saw her start in after her father. "Hunter, wait!"

But she was gone. Ethan hesitated at the threshold, staring at the concrete inches from his feet, then up into the darkness of the warehouse. Where Luke was, and Kronos was fighting him for control. Or, that's what it looked like.

Of course, Ethan had been told that if he let that slip, he'd end up in Kronos's dungeons and be tortured by Kronos himself. Starting with having his tongue cut out. A straight-out threat, that had been. Kronos would be so mad to see anyone witness it… And there wasn't anything he could do. He could hear Hunter now, talking to him. It was too late to stop her.

Ethan held his breath and prayed she'd fall silent. If she didn't say anything, it'd be easier on them all.

"Dad? Are you alright?"

Kronos's voice snapped back, clear and unhindered. He'd suppressed Luke. "I am _fine,_ child! Leave me alone!"

"Are you sure? I can go get anything, if you want, maybe, water…"

"What did I just tell you, Daughter?" Ethan choked. There it was, that icily calm voice again.

Hunter sighed audibly. "I'm only trying to help. I can't fight Luke for you, so I'm doing what I can-"

A harsh crack rang through the warehouse. Hunter fell silent. Ethan grit his teeth and flinched.

"Girl," Kronos hissed, "say that one more time. See what happens."

_Don't say it. Don't say it,_ Ethan prayed. Hey, it was a shot – Hunter wasn't as spiteful as usual when her father got like this…

"I said," she spat, "that Luke is fighting you. It's a reality you have to deal with, and it's one I'm trying to help-"

She was cut off by another sharp crack, as piercing as gunfire. Then another, and another. By the fifth, he heard that same small, tiny, pained gasp of surrender he'd noticed the night before. But Kronos didn't stop.

"You stupid," he spat, "foolish, sad little girl. You have disappointed me again." _Crack!_ "I can't stand it when my own flesh and blood turns against me like this."

Ethan's heart was pounding. He grabbed the doorframe to keep his hands from shaking. Hunter cried out again, a small, hardly audible noise that once again failed to stop her father. Hunter had never made such a sound, save times like now. She had never refused to fight back. Save times like now. She hadn't ever allowed someone to walk all over her. Save times like now.

Because he was Kronos. He was a Titan. What was she going to do?

As another crack sounded and he heard Hunter snap at her father to quit, (to no avail), his free hand landed on the gun.

So what if Kronos was a Titan? Ethan already had something crazy in mind. He already had a suicidal plot he'd been working on with Herald and Kyle and others. He had made up his mind that Kronos wasn't someone he wanted to follow into a new Age. And Kronos was hurting Hunter now. What the hell did Ethan have to lose?

Yes, there was something he could do. Just to buy her time. Chances were the Battle of Manhattan would end tonight, anyway, and he'd get to use the gun, and end all this, and maybe even escape whatever punishment…

He was already running through the warehouse, following the sound of the scythe's shaft. Kronos's threats were forgotten. It didn't matter now, he realized. There was just Hunter in pain, knelt beneath a dictator, and there was something he could do about it. What else did the rest matter? It hardly seemed relevant now, especially with the gun hidden under his purple Guard jacket.

He burst into the aisle and saw them – Hunter was backed against a shelf, teeth bared, eyes glittering with hate. Kronos stood in front of her, butt of his scythe raised again, cold and uncaring eyes locked on her. Despite how badly Ethan knew she was trying, she flinched.

He'd seen enough.

There was another deafening crack followed by silence. Fire seemed to race across his shoulder and shoot across his body, forcing him to flinch, a brief flash of pain that made him see stars.

When it faded, he found himself staring at a set of cold, furious golden eyes. The scythe's shaft still lay across his shoulder where it'd hit, pushing painfully against him. At his back, shocked to silence, was Hunter.

But the pain was nothing to the fury in his throat. The way he felt, Kronos ought to be hiding in a dark corner and praying for mercy. Ethan was in control here, just for the moment, and he was not going to let anyone forget it.

"I don't think," he spat venomously through his teeth, "that you're going to train a dog to do _anything _by abusing it, my lord."

Kronos's nostrils flared and he began to breathe heavily, holding something back. Those golden eyes were liquid lava, searing even to look at. Ethan's moment of boldness began to crumble. It wasn't until then that he realized he'd stepped between Hunter and Kronos, what he'd said, what he'd done, and that he'd given away the fact that he'd seen their conversation earlier that day and not said a word.

Fear began to churn in his throat. But not dread. Not regret. Not pride. Just fear. And, to his surprise, he found that he could handle it.

The shaft began to press harder. He braced his feet on the ground, glaring back at Kronos. He'd done staring contests before. He knew that to look away was to give in and admit his stand was nothing.

"Nakamura," the Titan mused, as if they'd bumped into each other at Wal-Mart. "What a lovely surprise. May I ask just what," – the scythe began to press even harder – "you are doing?"

"What's best for this army and this cause," Ethan said after just a moment too long of hesitation. He knew he was losing this.

"And what gave you the idea," Kronos continued, "that what was best for you was not what I was doing?"

Ethan swallowed thickly, steeled his nerves, and said, "If what you were doing is what you consider _best,_ then I think it was being overdone."

"Who died and made you the coach of my morals, Nakamura?"

Ethan's heart began to race again. The fear was getting stronger. "N-no one."

"No one. Exactly. Amazing how much you read into all that," Kronos breathed, golden eyes wide. His hand was shaking, causing the scythe shaft to quiver. "Had we more time, I would show exactly what I think is _best,_ Nakamura. And what I think is best_ is_ the best. My word is your life, little demigod. But that will have to wait until we get back. Do you know why?"

Ethan gulped. Behind him, Hunter was still silent. "…No, my lord, I don't."

Because in all honesty, he expected to die right then and there.

"Because you," Kronos said, "are going to do what I told you and ready the army. We are to move out as soon as they are in position. Leave my daughter and I to our previous conversation, and pretend this did not happen. I will speak with you later, assuming you live through the night."

"M-my lord," Ethan stammered, shocked at getting the option to walk away. But he couldn't. Not yet. "M-may Hunter c-come with me?"

There was a sharp sound and a brief explosion of pain in his mind. Golden eyes vanished and were replaced with the black of Ethan's eyelid. Behind him, Hunter cried out once more.

As the pain faded he opened his eye and rubbed his cheek where Kronos had hit him. But he was stopped as a hand like iron clamped on his shoulder and jerked him closer. Kronos's cold, rancid breath washed over his face, though he couldn't see the Titan himself.

"I said," Kronos whispered with a calm but shaking voice, "to go ready the army."

"Y-yes, my lord," Ethan managed. The cold tip of a scythe was pressed to his back. He'd have tried to run if he wasn't scared stiff.

Then Kronos shoved him away roughly, sending him crashing into the shelves and then to the floor. Small statues of frogs, dogs, cats, and other small animals shattered on the concrete around him. A few landed on his back, driving the breath from his lungs. A few bright flashes danced in his vision.

Then someone grabbed his hand, and the world just seemed to vanish.

He blinked and looked up. The sun was maybe an hour from setting. The sounds of the gathering army had grown quiet, as if distant. There was fresh grass beneath his feet, not overgrown but a nice and natural length, with little flowers standing out like blooming splotches of ink.

He looked down at his hand, which was still in someone else's. He followed their arm to find Hunter, golden eyes dimming from her time-warp magic. She was panting and staring off into the woods as if waiting for something to come charging out.

Nothing did.

"Are you alright?" Hunter whispered, still glaring fearfully at the foliage.

"Am I - ? I'm fine! What… What about you?" Ethan stuttered, taken off guard by the question. Of course he was fine. Just a few bruises. He doubted it measured up to what she'd been through.

"I'll be okay," she said, and tore her gaze from the woods to plop down on the grass. He sat next to her. "I can't believe you did that. I thought you were too scared to speak up."

Ethan choked. "You-you knew?! That I'd seen?!" Oh, crap. Now she was going to hate him for it.

Think about it. It was like when Bree had been calling for help that night on the _Princess Andromeda, _asking people to stop just for a moment. Ethan had heard her beg and offer drachmas and other things. Yet no one had bothered to stop.

Hunter might've been silently wanting him to say something. She might've been begging him to stop and help. And he hadn't done a thing for so long…

She nodded. "Yes. The night we were watching Black Butler in Kyle's room and you hit me with the pillow. It was dead on my latest bruise. Couldn't have been a coincidence. You don't do coincidences, do you?"

Ethan shook his head.

She shrugged. "You were giving me something to hide behind, weren't you? Something to say to Bree and Brook?"

Ethan nodded slowly. "…Did it work?"

"It worked fine. Thanks. You know, for caring about them. Not knowing. And for… And for that."

"He's going to have hell waiting for us when the battle's over tonight," Ethan sighed. He couldn't very well tell Hunter it'd be okay if Olympus fell, but even then, if it didn't, they were both screwed.

"He will," Hunter said simply, staring now at the sky. In the distance, a horn rang bold and daring through the air, signaling the Titan's army to move out.

oOo

**Nyx: I hope I have made many of the connections and possible themes clear by now. Did anybody else read Bree's problem with WWII and her and Ethan's refusal to speak up and make the connection? It was unintentional at first, but I kept playing at it, because it fit well…**

**Nic: This story, as Nyx likes to both write and read, is kind of thickly woven. We don't mess around with this stuff. As far as where we are now, we are boiling down to the climax. Things are going to happen…**

**Nyx: They will EXPLODE! Like FIREWORKS!**

**Nic: Heh. Thanks to those who read, and please review! Tell us what you think of Ethan's plot! Of him finally speaking out! Of Hunter's struggles and what Brook's possible melee secret-fight-trick that she mentioned, because that's coming up next week!**

**Nyx: I'm not sure how many chapters this thing should have… Right now on Word we have 393 pages. We should end somewhere between or just over 450-500. Probably over. I am still pondering the epilogue.**

**Nic: Once again, thanks for the R and R! See you next week!**

**Nyx: *waving erratically* Bye! Sianara! Come back next week to see what happens! EAT STROGANOFF!**

**Nic: Nyx, don't scare people. That's my job.**

**Nyx: *grumbles* No fair…**

10


	41. Poison Trees

**DISCLAIMER: We do not own PJatO! Rick Riordan does! Obviously.**

**REVIEW RESPONSES:**

**Karode: Yay! Thanks! And you can love Kronos all you want, he is a very interesting character. One of our personal favorites. You'll see even more of him (his mind, personality, etc) soon.**

**Assassin427: Thnx. (Saying thanks twice seems redundant and kind of rude.) Hope you enjoyed your spring break!**

**Guest: Thanks for the prediction! Or, that's what I think it was. If it was a suggestion, very interesting, and I'd love to hear more about why you're hoping for it. Though like I said, this story has already been written, and it is hard to change the plot line much. But we still love to hear what you think!**

oOo

As the horn rang out, I glanced around, expecting Hunter and Ethan to come running up and take their places beside us. But the few demigods I saw scrambling for their places among the monster army weren't them; as the familiar, great, earth-shattering beat of marching footsteps began, the clearing became bare of all semi-human life, and they were still nowhere to be seen.

Brook was leaning around me to get a look, eyes glinting from beneath her helm. There were hundreds of monsters in front of us; then a line of demigods; then the archers. I was at the back of the demigods with the Guard and her just behind us. "Do you see them?" she asked.

I glanced ahead of us. Our line wouldn't be moving for another minute or so. Then I continued to search.

Ten seconds later, Kronos came trotting out of the warehouse, scythe drawn. He raked his sharp gaze up the column and fixed those bright eyes on us. Then he jogged forward.

The Guard straightened as he came forward. That is, me, Herald, Nick, and Brook. The others were absent or dead.

"My lord, Hunter and Ethan aren't here-" I began.

He waved a hand to cut me off. "I know. They'll be joining you soon. Now, listen; if we advance to the Empire State Building tonight, I will have our war horns blown three times, sharply. When you here that, grab the nearest Guard member, and come running. I want all of the Guard at my side when we storm Olympus. Do not be late. Is that clear?"

We dipped our heads. "Yes, my lord."

"Good. Nakamura and Hunter will join you soon. They know their orders. Should they order you to do something tonight, do it. And if any of you see an act of insubordination, of treachery, or treason…" He trailed off, dragging his burning gaze across us. I felt the urge to flinch, as if his eyes were two literal branding sticks. "Kill. On sight. Understood?"

"Yes, my lord," we said in unison.

"And when in doubt, listen to Hyperion. You can trust him. With that said," – he cut off and saluted, and we returned the gesture – "I hope to see you at Olympus's doors this sunrise. For the Titans."

"For the Titans," we echoed, and dropped our salute. He nodded, satisfied, and retreated back into the warehouse.

I dimly wondered just what he was planning in there.

Then it was our turn to march. I tore my gaze from the warehouse and followed, letting the now-familiar beat of war drums rule my feet. For my mind, I inserted my ear buds and turned on the iPod. The familiar music was calming, more familiar than the drums but all in all the same thing. My feet to the drums, my heart and mind to the song, my eyes scanning our perimeter for Hunter and Ethan.

Ten minutes later, I was beginning to worry. We were marching north, ready to swing into Manhattan well above Central Park and march down from there. It would be easy, we'd been told, especially with Hyperion there. Not much could stand in the way of his revenge.

I could hear him now. Bright light shining ahead like a fallen star. I hadn't spoken to Hyperion often, but he had a bitter air around him, a sharp tongue, and a gleaming hate in his eyes that lit fire with the memories of battles fought long ago. That, and the eagerness to start those battles again.

But with Ethan and Hunter gone, I didn't want to march into any battle. Even Herald was looking concerned now. Nick stared ahead blankly. Behind me, Brook was beginning to falter in her rhythm. My music had faded to unpleasant background noise.

Then, at last, I saw two familiar forms burst from the thinning woods and come sprinting for us and their place in the Guard. I breathed a sigh of relief and made the signal for Nick to move over, making room. He saw Hunter and obeyed without protest.

"Where were you?" I asked, turning off my iPod. She and Ethan didn't look to be tired or exhausted. Yet what were they doing all the way out here?

"Mission for Kronos," Ethan said, taking his place on Hunter's other side. He glanced back at Brook. "You guys ready for this?"

"As much as I'll ever be," Brook said grimly.

He smiled and nodded. "Good. After a while, you learn to love it."

oOo

There was truth to Ethan's words.

I don't know what to call the love one eventually has for combat. Familiarity, I guess, and all things familiar offer some sort of comfort. It's amazing what one can become familiar _with,_ too.

We had stopped partway into Central Park, waiting for the last rays of the sun to fade. I was swaying from side to side, lost in the song on my iPod, feeling the beat and flow of the music, letting my arms (without Întuneric, of course) swing out as they would with a sword, finding comfort in this calm replication of a deadly, face-paced dance. Besides, it was good review. And I knew the song by heart, like it was second nature, like it was nothing but a strongly felt war drum.

A signal from Ethan caught my eye. I quickly turned off the iPod and stood at attention, slipping it into my pocket and hoping it wouldn't get destroyed to night. I know I was asking for it, running into battle with a small, squish-able machine in my pocket, but one, I needed it, and two, I wasn't going to die without it.

The thought came naturally to me. What I was willing to die with and without. Like when I'd been searching for Hunter and Ethan earlier; I wasn't willing to die without them.

I glanced at the sky and saw the last rays of the sun – or Apollo's sports car, whichever you choose to think by – fading to purple in the west. Up front, the army let out an ear-splitting howl, loud screams and fierce cries of defiance accented by the eager clanging of weapons and shields.

Hunter drew her scythe and sighed. "Here we go again."

Ethan grunted and drew his sword. I heard Brook murmur in Greek, something about a blessing of strength from a pack of wolves and the cunning of a wild cat and the speed of a snake. Nick sighed and made some strange signal with his hands, clearly religious but not one I recognized. Herald, trying to be funny, I guessed, made a mock prayer to Zeus that said some very unpleasant things. Hunter smirked.

Up ahead, the front of the army began to move again. I didn't return to my iPod this time, letting myself fall to the beat of the war drums and the pounding of so many feet, of Hunter's and Ethan's and Brook's.

Above, the dark night sky glimmered, and the long shadows seemed to seep into the world. Night had fallen. The shadows snarled like angry dogs, waiting for orders.

The same eerie calm settled over me as the frontlines clashed. Arrows began to sail overhead, and we weren't even clear of the trees yet. Beside me, Hunter was just as still. Ethan was bouncing from foot to foot with his anxiety. Brook was tapping on her bow impatiently. And the shadows were still waiting.

That detached feeling. It wasn't like what Ethan had taught me, though that was part of it. The other part was something Kronos had taught me, and another the shadows.

Everything seemed simple, like I'd done it a hundred times, an old routine, easy as one plus one. We would be in the midst of fighting soon, we would fight, we would take part in a deadly dance. I would parry what came my way and dodge the more clever moves, then pull some of my own tricks. The sly ones, the ones Kronos had taught me, the ones that finally hit those little precious candles, the precious, vulnerable places that screamed like strobe lights. Then we would move on.

It was like a slightly intriguing book, not unlike others I had read, not unlike other fights. But unique, interesting enough to earn a sharp, attentive gaze and a cocked head and brief sense of awe.

The screams of a battle were familiar now, too. They no longer grated my ears. Now, I was actually kind of put out that I wasn't already a part of those noises. It made my skin crawl, having to hear the rage of a fight but not be a part of it. Like dangling a candy cane in front of a child on Christmas.

One glance at the others told me they felt the same.

"How is it going up there?" Brook hissed, too short to see.

As we were surrounded by our monster allies, we were all too short, but Ethan answered, "Just fine. We're going to right pace." But he said it impatiently; nothing was wrong, but a walking speed irritated him.

Then, sending chills like shadows rolling up my spine, a low hiss emanated from around us.

It was everywhere, surrounding the army. I glanced through the trees. Hyperion had bulldozed a clear column for the army, but they still surrounded us on every side. Anything could be hiding in there. _ Lots_ of anything.

The army hesitated. Întuneric hummed in my hands, and I imagined it snarling at the noise.

Then the hissing stopped. Just died. For a moment, silence echoed through the air like a slammed door.

Then the earth exploded.

Rocks went flying like cannonballs. The trees began to shift and bend. Roots and sticks erupted from the soil at our feet, and the angry hissing noise burst into existence once more. It rose into a battle cry, from all sides. The clash of blades launched into existence to my right.

We were surrounded.

A bright green flash lit the left side of my face, the side exposed to the flank. I whirled around and met the blade with Întuneric. A girl made of leaves and sticks, bright green chlorophyll eyes and sharp seed teeth, glared at me from across the blades. Her vine-like hair blew in the wind. She made no sound, and this close I could smell the sharp scent of sap.

Nymph. I had no idea what nature had against Kronos, as for what I knew he didn't hate it much either, but here were its spirits.

I scowled, and before either of us could pull a stunt, she began to wilt. The sword first; it turned brown and shriveled, shrinking and doubling in on itself. She screamed, the one noise I'd ever hear her make, as the wilting climbed up her arms and spread across her shoulders, down her chest. As if inside she were hollow, she crumpled in on herself like a crushed soda can. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a cedar tree explode into ashes. The grass at its roots died.

I glanced at my feet. Here, too, the green summer grass was stained with yellow.

Something told me that I had a tad bit of an advantage here.

And once more it turned into routine. Instinctive, reflexive, old habits. The shadows rumbled eagerly, like storm clouds. With a wild yell, I reached out to the night, feeling every cool brush of every shadow sharpen, like icy knifes, like an explosion of energy pent up for so long, like stale air in a too-big balloon.

A black shape, too thin to occupy more than one dimension, flashed out. A cold, hard _thud _hit my chest like one of the war drums going off right next to me. The shadows gave a silent howl, pure, icy energy flooding every vein. It stole my breath for a moment.

The trees along our flank burst into ash. With wails and yelps of surprise, nymphs wilted and flashed out of existence.

The one attacking Ethan crumpled to his feet. He looked at me with light dancing in his eye, excitement, the sharp, high solemnity of a battle, a smile on his face I honestly knew so well by now. Hunter howled in victory and fell upon the nearest enemy, a man with goat legs dressed in bark armor and beating at Herald with a club.

Behind me, the nymphs attacking our archers fell apart. I heard someone cry out, a sharp bark, an order.

_Thwang!_

_ Th-th-th-th-th-th-th-th-th-thwang!_

Arrows shot from bows with such surprising weight. They sailed up and into the sky and over our armies, hitting the enemies on our flanks. Some disappeared ahead, into an enemy I couldn't yet see.

I whirled around on the next satyr, sending a few small shadows flying as I did. They became part of my art, part of my dance, little flutters off my fingertips. Not much, now, because I knew I'd need them later. There was so much instinct, so much reflex, that I played off of. My mind was free to notice and make perfect sense, to make to notations instinct didn't, like an exposed throat or a gap in the fighting, easily sorting out what I couldn't understand on my own, working patterns out of chaos in a heartbeat.

Beside me I felt Ethan, dancing to a slow, almost leisure beat. Hunter was faster, the eight notes, shaper and smaller and everywhere she needed to be. Behind us, someone called the order to fire again, and arrows shot past like torpedoes in water.

The army was moving forward again.

Stones kept flying at us, but we knew to dodge. No roots managed to poke through the yellow grass at my feet, nor in the trail I left. Brook walked on my heels for protection. Up ahead, the sounds of the real fight were getting louder. A bright, bright glow pierced the faint white moonlight, like a pocket of day. Ethan's hair had a golden edge to it. Hyperion was not far ahead.

Then, at last, we broke past the tree line.

The line in front of us split, and like through double doors, the scene of the fight was revealed.

The first thing I noticed, or that anyone would notice, was Hyperion. A glowing man, bright, casting daylight on the sparkling Reservoir and the green grass and the bright trees on either side. On the small strips of land between lake and forest, on either side, great heaving masses fought. Armor and weapons glinted in the strange mix of starlight and sunlight, a weird combination of black and white, glittering colors almost hurting my eyes. The shadows jumped and danced warily.

"Left!" Hunter barked, and the guard went left. The archers split and followed, Brook with our group.

Here, enemy demigods fought alongside the nature spirits. There was a flash as Hyperion turned and it highlighted a dagger; I turned, swinging Întuneric in an arc. The demigod hissed angrily as the dagger skidded into the lake, a red line of blood welling up on their wrist. But they lunged again, fast; I ducked and swung up at the last second, knocking them to the ground, where they stayed.

"_Fire!"_

I tensed. That wasn't our archers.

Silver arrows sprung from the trees. I ducked, dodging one and another nature spirit. There was a bright flash and Hunter leapt up – golden magic sprayed out from her fingers, shooting out like a massive radar signal. The arrows that hit the golden blast stopped, hung in the air, and dropped lifelessly to the ground.

I smiled, remembering that textbook.

Then another nature spirit lunged, flinging rocks and pinecones. I dodged and leapt forward. Beside me, Ethan advanced on his own opponent. Between their moves, his and the nymph's, it was like reading a book. The book told me which way to go. I ducked under a thorn-covered club and lashed out with the shadows again. A sweet, icy scent flooded my mouth as more trees burst into ash. The sea of thrashing bodies, both in daylight and under the pale moon, surged again. We moved forward, a great wave, each pushed by the momentum behind them.

Silver arrows rained down again. I laughed as one landed between my feet. Funny, it'd land there. Funny it'd miss by chance. Lucky me, lucky me. Other kids weren't so lucky. Strange thing, luck was…

_"FIRE!"_ Book screamed. I glanced back – the leader of the archers had fallen. She stood at their head, bow raised, fury blazing in her eyes as she aimed into the trees. She clearly had a target pinned. Without hesitation, she released the string, sending the arrow bolting into the leaves. A body dressed in silver fell from the braches and landed heavily on the ground.

The nature spirits were thinning. It was mainly demigods now. The nymphs still alive were also made of water; they were from the manmade lake. Yet they wilted too close, too; they boiled at the touch of Întuneric and vanished into steam. Flashes of weapons and arms and the sound of blades echoed all over. I ducked smoothly around one and kept dancing; one foot here, the other there. Întuneric flicked back and forth, so easily, it was instinct, something so old I could hardly trace it, a wonderful dance. I didn't even see all of it.

Behind us, the Reservoir began to roar. A massive ripple shot out from the center, towering, blocking out daylight. The shadows came easier, leaping into existence, assaulting my mind with their cold, probing fingers. They were louder than the fight; Întuneric reacted to them, gathering a swirling black mist on its blade that moved like an angry swarm of bees. I yelled and let them loose, releasing all the pressure. This time there was an audible _BANG!_ as the black swath of magic burst into existence, turning trees and nymphs to ash.

The wave, inches from shore, slowed down, then reversed course. A great spout of water shot into the sky like a bullet and the wave crashed in on itself, and Hyperion disappeared into the water.

The sight put both sides in panic. "GOGOGO!" Hunter yelled, waving her scythe forward. My eye skipped over the enemy force – we were almost through. If we made it, we could double back around and ambush the enemies on the other side of the water. But we had to do it fast, and Hyperion was currently busy and of no help.

Similarly, a curly-haired blond boy raised his dagger and short sword, one in each hand, and yelled something back in Ancient Greek. Then they charged with a new ferocity.

The demons around us bellowed in answer, snapping their teeth in eager clicks.

Then the two sides collided like tectonic plates ramming into each other. There was a force, like dispelled air or a drumbeat, as weapons met. It was all moonlight now; all black and white, all white flashes and darker shadows. Easy patterns to follow. I dodged one sword and another flashed and I ducked under, Întuneric drawn. Familiar dance moves popped into my head and I followed without hesitation, easy, like it were planned, like it were nothing, like I could talk something harder than this, these nature spirits that wilted like they were almost nothing…

There was an angry howl and Hyperion, still standing on the Reservoir, charged toward the southern end. He was no longer glowing, but his sword was drawn; the army cheered and surged forward with him.

There was another series of bowshots, one from the enemies in the trees, and then triumphant cries. Behind me, I heard the string of a bow snap.

We couldn't turn our backs to the south. Ethan moved in to cover Hunter and I, as if we'd done this before, as we turned to help the archers. An ambush of trees from the woods had found them. The first that caught my eye was wrestling, wicked stake in hand, with a bowman from Mount Othrys. I didn't know his name. I howled and spat, hot hate blooming in my chest, and lunged forward. The tree dryad didn't even have time to glance back at me before falling apart into red and gold crimpled leaves. To my right, Hunter's scythe swung in one long, continued movement, cutting something with each new swerve. She danced around it like one might be swung by a partner, as if the scythe were moving on its own accord and controlling her instead of vice versa. We both stepped in time to a familiar beat radiating, stronger than Hyperion's light had been, from Ethan.

At last, I caught sight of Brook; pinned between a tree and its dryad, scowling. Her daggers were drawn and feet braced against the bark, fending off against the nymph. The green, leaf-haired girl held no weapon; just her fist, knuckles decorated with sharp, glistening thorns.

Panicked, but not wanting to hit Brook, I sent a wild shot up at the tree's branches. No avail; I shaved off the leaves only. I dodged another gleaming sword and looked around. Hunter was busy with two nymphs and a demigod. And that left-

"Ethan!" I yelled, seeing he was closer. He slammed the hilt of his sword into his enemy's face and whirled to face me, his dark eye black in this light.

I motioned towards Brook with my sword. He nodded and leapt into action, working his way closer.

As he did I moved to cover his back, once again facing the south. Way down the Reservoir shore, Hyperion seemed to be fighting a storm, lashing angrily at clouds and rain that had gathered in a small vortex about his height and twenty feet in diameter. He howled angrily as the water turned to steam on his skin. Then another bright flash of moonlight blade blocked my way, and I was occupied again.

The same dance, the same movements. Now, with anxiety gnawing on my stomach, it was getting old.

Întuneric hummed exasperatedly, annoyed with that thought.

Sometimes I could've sworn that blade had a life inside it. It sure liked to make itself heard.

Above the noise of the fight, like a needle piercing a thin cloth, a pained cry could be heard.

I whipped around, this time not bothering to dispatch the demigod facing me first. Ethan had been struck by archers; the shaft of an arrow poked out of the shoulder on his sword arm. Black blood shimmered in the moonlight. He switched to his left hand, but his sword was a hand-and-a-half. Another demigod leapt on him from his left. He howled and spun around, kicking them away, only to have them launch back with all the aggressiveness of a feasting hyena.

Brook, still pinned to the tree, was cornered by two nymphs. They snickered and jabbed playfully, a nick across her cheek, a hit to her shoulder. Her daggers flashed out and cut open an arm. This time green blood, pastel in the moonlight and grey in the shade, seeped from the cut. She was answered with two more to her collar bone.

I was already cutting a path, shoving through the thick of the fighting. She disappeared from my sight. I howled angrily and leapt forward, trying to cut my way through, but this was not a dance any one person could lead. It took teamwork. Even with magic, I wasn't fast enough.

From off to my left, Hunter's furious battle cry split the night. She'd spotted Brook.

I jabbed Întuneric into the demigod in my way, not bothering to see where I'd hit. My delicate balance, my dance, my beat, had vanished. I couldn't see Ethan anymore. But at last, I caught sight of Brook, one more time –

She was scowling, the fierce light of battle in her eyes. It wasn't until then, seeing her face streaked with dirt and her hair a soiled, oily mess hanging in her face, sharp teeth bared and sharper eyes peeking through the limp curls, did a sense of horror dawn on me. That was my Brook. My sweet little sister, who was hardly eleven; who'd tried to save a wounded, rabid raccoon she'd found in an alleyway; who'd cried when I'd cried before asking what was wrong (she would have done for Hunter, but I had never seen Hunter cry); who'd fought through the mess of the last year with such a boldness I hadn't worried much. Yet here she was, eleven years old, fighting in this bloody whirlwind. For the first time I felt the hot blood on my face, coating my arms, running down Întuneric. The scent of death became hostile. This was the world my little Brook had been thrown into so young. This was the world I'd failed to save her from. And to think, these past few months, Hunter and I had torn her apart by fighting so often…

And she met it with that face, that furious, agitated snarl that said she couldn't believe someone had been so stupid as to step in her way, eyes glinting with determination hard as a rock.

I'll never forget that look. Brook had always been mature for her years, but at last I saw how much she had aged. How she had changed. It hurt more than anything else.

The dagger in her hands snapped under the weight of another blow. The look on her face grew more furious and she lunged for the nymph with bare hands, broken weapon thrown aside. They both fell and disappeared into the throng.

The demigod, standing above them, drew his own knife and lunged.

oOo

**Nyx: X/ not my best work.**

**Nic: Cliffy! Yay! Lol today's the worst day for that…**

**Nyx: See, to experiment with how it changes our views (because we are curious to see how people's minds work and like people to read our work, for if it was classified and secretive we would not have written it) we're updating at different times today, all spread out. It's all written, I assure you, but we're not posting the next chapter until a little after noon, and the third just after four. You're going to have to wait a few hours…**

**Nic: We apologize for any resulting insanity!**

**Nyx: To pass the time, play Gem Swap! I have started playing that recently, and it is seriously fascinating…. Warning: If you are easily addicted to strategizing games, DO NOT PLAY! Don't worry, though; I don't think I'll be giving Annabeth a run for her money anytime soon…**

**Nic: You would play that game, wouldn't you?**

**Nyx: Well, it's simpler than lots of other games I've played, yet all the more enjoyable. Why not?**

**Nic: Is this going to end up like your addiction to mints?**

**Nyx: *glances at floor* No….**


	42. Guardian Angels

**DISCLAIMER: Rick Riordan owns PJatO, not us. Thankfully.**

oOo

I didn't see what killed the poor guy. Just a flash of tan pelt that moved faster than he did, faster than my eyes could; something locked on his throat and he dropped like a rock. His killer snarled, a loud scream/roaring noise, and leapt into the fight.

Then another nymph blocked my view. I scowled and leapt at her, furious. My heart still raced and my mind was scattered; right then, the only way I could rebuild it was not around Brook but instead the dance. Once more, my feet found their place, darting around and slicing Întuneric through her middle. She crumpled into soil and sticks.

Moonlight flashed off hair and glinting eyes, then a sword. Demigod. The dance became completely thoughtless again.

Before I could put an end to it, the beige blur slammed into him, splashing its color into the black and white and sending the demigod barreling back into the crowd. Claws and fangs glowed in the moonlight, flashing, black blood flying off in droplets.

The big cat dropped back to its paws, ears flattened, and yowled at the retreating demigod. A low growl bubbled in its throat as the cry died.

Then the cougar turned, ears flicking back upwards, dark eyes shining and teeth bared in an eerie smile. I stared at it, shell-shocked.

It wasn't until Ethan caught sight of us and let out a ragged, triumphant cheer did I realize that the mountain lion was Brook.

I was so shocked, I almost dropped Întuneric. "How the hell-"

Then she screamed (technically cougars can't roar) and launching into the fight again, nothing more than lightning claws and a strong set of teeth.

Before the dance could suck me back in, another interruption stopped me. A song, an eerie song, finally noticeable over the noise of the dying fight. I could tell by listening that it was almost over; what should've been a soft melody had become sharp, accented, and fast. I whirled around and ducked beneath a sword and there – across the Reservoir, on the west banks, stood Hyperion. Sort of.

The storm had died down. In its place stood Percy Jackson, watching. Satyrs and nymphs were dancing around playing on reed pipes. That was the song. It made me sway on my feet, even brought a sick feeling to my stomach. Roots and bark leapt from the ground, climbing, weaving their way up the Titan's legs.

Hyperion howled and struggled, but by now, he was up to his chin in bark. His arms had turned to braches.

"Hunter!" I called, taking a step into the water. Nobody snuck up behind me. The demigods were falling back, our forces were staring across the Reservoir. The fight was coming to a shocked standstill.

She was already there; a golden blur, sparked with time magic, shot out through our ranks and burst through on the north. She swerved around the lake and approached the back flank of the enemy on the west, going maybe twenty miles an hour.

Not fast enough.

Hyperion yelled a last, sharp insult. For a moment I remembered the light he'd cast and the spite in his eyes and then his face disappeared into bark. Nothing stood to mark his presence but the large tree at the banks of the lake. It looked so big and old, it blended it. People would pass by without ever knowing the full story, without knowing what was trapped inside.

Strange, that a life could be lost, or an immortal imprisoned (possibly forever) and not leave a single trace behind.

Fury leapt into my throat, hot and hard. I needed to move. I needed that dance, the feel of sword striking home, the sharp thought and reflexive flicks and bursts of energy that left my head buzzing and the scent of blood and the sick taint of death. No, there would be traces left. I was sure of it.

"We're almost through!" I yelled, and whirled to face the south again.

But Hunter had stopped; I saw her hesitate on the enemy's northern flank, feet braced, scowling. Nobody paid her mind for a moment. No, most were either snarling at other demigods or staring in horror at the tree. A few turned to retreat.

Then her gaze snapped up. Her eyes glowed so that they were visible even from where I stood. When she called out, her voice carried by some magic spell, sharp and warped so that it sounded like her father's. "RETREAT!"

What?!

Ethan's cry echoed it hoarsely. "Retreat! Regroup in the north!"

Nobody hesitated. Our armies whirled and raced back to the north, casting nervous glances behind them as they went. But the enemies made no aggressive move; not one chased us, and not one archer followed.

I watched my allies shoot past, fleeing like it was nothing. My anger grew, like a swelling tide. Not just at the enemy, not just over Hyperion; at Hunter and Ethan, at all those who turned and bolted. After all this, after discovering Kronos's dark side and still fighting for him anyway, after all the fights, after seeing Brook lose what innocence she had left, after seeing her kill someone with her _teeth,_ after all the time spent training and gaining Ethan's trust, I was expected to turn and run? We had almost broken through. Surely, there were too few Olympian demigods to hold us back once we got past here? We were so close! We could have Olympus, whose rulers were worse than the sadistic man we served, on its knees by sunrise.

And they wanted me to _retreat?_

"Bree!"

I turned. Ethan had hesitated as he ran by, staring uncertainly at me. Wind had picked up, like it was tugging at me to follow. It played with his hair and bit his jacket. "Come on!"

"But we're almost through!" I yelled, waving Întuneric to the south.

"Never mind! Come on!" he snapped back, as if we were training and I'd become distracted with a leaf or a teasing shadow.

I glanced back at the enemy, who were snickering at the backs of our army as we fled. Some were cheering. It made me so mad, because if we wanted to, we could've beat them. And they knew it.

I might not understand what was on Hunter's mind, but I understood what usually was in her thoughts; spite. I whirled to follow Ethan, brushing the grass with Întuneric as I did. There was a sharp tug in my gut, and I heard the sounds of earth shaking and felt the ground tremble. Some of the demigods behind me yelped and scrambled back.

As we hit the tree line, I glanced over my shoulder. They were standing at the edge of a small but deep pit, peering over with faces of shock, wonder, and curiosity. None of them had fallen in, but I didn't they liked the ground falling away beneath their feet.

But the real fun of it was how much the sight reminded me of the Williamsburg Bridge. I made a silent vow, prayer, whatever you'd like to call it, that all I did tonight would be for Kyle.

_REEEEEEEEEEEET!_

I glanced up. It wasn't something I hadn't seen before. A massive creature, held by wings, shot overhead. Wind rushed by when it did. It bashed at trees as it went, but the park was not its target. Pink feathers flapped and the ugly snot continued to squeal. Some big pig with wings. Kronos's idea. It'd help create chaos for us. I made note of it and went back to running.

Once past the trees and back into our cleared path, the army stopped, and everyone was arguing. The archers, leaderless, stood awkwardly while other demigods discussed where to go. Monsters howled and batted at one another, competing for dominance. The racket was louder than the fight had been.

"STOP!" Hunter yelled, and everyone jumped and fell silent, at first scared she was Kronos. But once they saw it was her, they didn't exactly look inclined to ignore her words, either. "LISTEN UP!

"We're going to swing around the park and head south! All over, forces are pushing their ways into Manhattan! Now, I want you, YES YOU, THE LEGION I'M POINTING TO, SMART ONE to head to the Hudson River, work down the banks, and then turn to the east on 33rd Street! That'll have you attacking from the west! Push the enemy back to the Empire State Building. You, over there – archers, pick a leader, because you're going with them – same thing, but along the East River. Approach from that side. Run them back to Olympus. You, this group, head all the way around to the south and reinforce our troops there. And YOU!" she yelled, addressing the massive part of our group that hadn't been assigned anything. "Keep going south! Charge straight through the park! Through the trees, by the Reservoir, I don't care. But stick together and _get through. _If you have to sneak past and double back, do. I want the enemy force here destroyed! Once we all reach the Empire State Building, we'll have them surrounded!"

Demons hissed and clacked. Demigods held their weapons in the air and cheered. It was a small sound, compared to the monsters, but it was heard. Hunter waved her scythe in the signal to move out, and the army began to run, streaming off to their respective locations like water down a mountain. She stood in the middle, letting them charge around.

I stayed, too. Ethan was at my shoulder. She hadn't told us to go anywhere.

When the army disappeared and fighting could be heard once more in Central Park, Hunter signaled Ethan and I to gather. Brook was nowhere to be found – probably camouflaged. In fact, yes, there was the cougar, slinking out from the dead trees where she'd hidden from the excited armies.

Ethan and I stared at Hunter in awe. "How did you-" I began.

She scowled and answered for me. Golden eyes glowered at an image in her mind. "Well, somebody needed to yell at them, or there'd be chaos. And I didn't come this far to watch it fall apart. They needed a leader? Hell, nobody else was willing. Glad they listened." She fell silent for a moment, listening to the fight.

Then her gaze flickered to something behind me. I turned. There Brook stood, virtually unscathed, hair still a mess and clothes rumpled. Her bow and quiver were slung over her shoulder. Her eyes reminded me of a torn and ragged cloth, stressed and ripped, pained with things that couldn't be unseen.

"Come here," Hunter crooned before I could get out a word, holding her arms open. Brook just stared at us warily and didn't come running.

"What're we doing standing around?" she asked flatly. "I thought we had a war to fight."

Hunter sighed and even smiled a bit. "That we do. Which way do you guys want to go?"

"South," Ethan and I said in unison.

Brook took a drink of nectar and nodded with us as she recapped it. "South is fine. Nice job, by the way, taking control."

She shrugged and turned south, jogging at a leisure pace. It wasn't until then, when I had to follow, that I realized the fight had set me panting. I wasn't too tired yet, but if this lasted all night, I would be. We set off after her, Ethan changing paces constantly to stay in his place at our side, for his legs were longer and he was naturally faster.

"So," Hunter said as we ran. "Where'd the cougar thing come from?"

"Well, some of the demigods who were at Mount Othrys for a while had seen Artemis face Atlas not too long ago. They said she shape shifted into all sorts of predators. So Ethan and I looked into it the days you two were training with Kronos," Brook said simply.

I glanced at her. "So you can do tigers, too?"

She shook her head. "No. Only animals I've hunted and killed before."

"And you killed a mountain lion when?"

"There was one poking around the edges of the palace near Hecate's magic center. Ethan said it would be good practice, so I took care of it."

"Ethan said that, did he?" Hunter mused, glancing at him.

"Ethan might have," Ethan muttered, staring at his moving feet.

She smirked and turned back to her path, swerving around an ashy tree stump. There were a lot of those now.

We shot by the Reservoir. It was empty now, save that tree. It was hard to pick out from some of the others. Already, Hyperion was being erased in a way I couldn't ignore.

If Kyle were here, he'd have shrugged and said, 'Well, you won't forget him, so it's not really true.' Yes, I was sure. I knew him that well. At least, when Kyle had died, he'd given the enemy the unpleasant sight of a slain child. One last act of spiteful revenge. But Hyperion? Nope.

To the south, the sounds of fighting had escalated. I could even hear explosions. Above, the stars watched with all their cold indifference, promising us a long night in their presence.

oOo

It was the first time I fought in a long, continuous battle. I got the real sense of what it's like to capture a city. Running through streets, some empty, some with small patrols of enemies, some filled with writhing bodies and moonlight armor and ink-like blood. The world seemed to be spinning around me, twisting and turning, so I moved through it without actually running. Time swung past in a blur.

I don't know how long it all took, or if I remember things in the correct order. Peeking around corners and charging down streets, running down empty ones. We stuck together, us four. They were the only ones I trusted. Anyone else, even our allies, demigod or demon, I was not comfortable around. It was a life-or-death situation; most people aren't inclined to trust anyone.

But I trusted them. And they trusted me.

I had no idea where we were, as I had hardly glanced at the map of New York City (whoops), but our street was empty for the time being. Save the last two demigods, who, in a desperate effort, flung down their weapons and whirled to retreat.

Ethan caught them at the intersection. He ran ahead and pounced on one, knocking him hard to the asphalt, and in one smooth motion used his sword to slit the other one's throat. She slid to the ground so gracefully, it was almost funny. Though yet again, a lot is almost funny in times like that.

The demigod he'd knocked down didn't move. We didn't check to see if he was dead; he was down, that was all that mattered. We regrouped and without word began loping along the streets again, heading continuously south, where the battle still raged like a madhouse.

We saw evidence of it. Bodies and wounded strewn out on the streets. Massive craters in sidewalks. Most of the bodies, however, were mortals. The empty streets weren't empty; they were filled with frozen cars. People at the wheel were slumped over, sleeping.

Morpheus's spell, of course. He'd put the city to sleep. Though it seemed the Olympian demigods had done a good job of dragging humans to the side and out of the way. Somehow, I doubted it was to make our job easier.

The next corner we turned revealed another intersection. In the center stood a group of five demigods. At first, I couldn't see if they were friendly or hostile. Then one pointed at us and barked an order. The group charged.

I braced myself and held Întuneric up. Same old dance, same smooth, fluid, instinctive dance.

We didn't' use magic. Not yet. But we fell to Ethan's beat as we usually did, following Hunter's lead, not even taking the time to learn our opponents or let them fall victim to some trap, just thwacked and moved on as fast as we could. We were nearing the thick of the fighting.

Then, at last, we turned around one last corner and found it.

All down the street, covering the pavement and pressed to the buildings on either side, were jumping bodies. Moonlight bathed the still towers so that they looked like still, calm, hostile sentries. The battle buzzed with so much movement it could've been a beehive.

Hunter called out her battle cry once more, and we leapt into the fight.

That's where it began to blur. It was the same dance, sometimes to my own beat, sometimes to Ethan's. Magic was used in small bursts and only to hit one opponent at a time, for fear of killing my allies. Moonlight and shadows streaked across my vision fast as lightning. There was movement, the same footing, the same swings, the same fluid art I'd learned while training. There was the lag of blade hitting flesh. The stench of death was so strong, I doubted we would ever wash it from New York's streets. The noise, the savage howls and fierce yowls and ear-grinding clash of metal, would echo between the buildings forever. In my mind, the whole fight is a pocket of suspended time, so many still hours filled with a riot. A riot on the outside, a riot of senses. Flashes and thick, suffocating smells and the loud and somewhat comforting sounds of a loud battle (because it's scary to see a fight and hear nothing) and the cool touch of Întuneric and the taste of the shadows and, once in a while, my own blood. And the sixth sense, the one that tied us together. Telepathy, I think. The one that instinctively drove both Ethan and I to advance at once, that forced Hunter and I to close in on a target from either side together, like we were controlled by one conscious that pulled and played with us, its limbs. One body, different hands. That's all we were.

I recognized others. Once I saw Nick, an insane look on his face. He was cornered by a man made of metal – was that Benjamin Franklin? A statue? – and a demigod, fighting for his life. Then he vanished behind a Laistrygonian. Once there was Herald, smooth and confident, knifing a satyr in the side. Then he was gone, too, and it was just us once more.

We worked, together and individually, like a well-oiled machine. My brain processed sights, sounds, smells, touches, tastes, predictions, plans, and actions in split seconds and sent them shooting off on their way, so quick I couldn't remember the thought once it'd passed. Each move, instinct, each beat and every strike, seemed to click in my chest. Acknowledgment, perhaps. This had all been practiced. I had been working on this dance for over a year. I knew the way my body worked.

And I liked it.

I knew the way Ethan worked, too. Perfect balance, just right between nimble and overbearing, never missing a solid beat, never lapsing in confidence. He had when I'd first met him, but all uncertainty was gone now. He bit with his sword and lashed out his arm. The arrow had been pulled free. Nectar had healed it, I assumed, explaining why Hunter had waited for us to meet up. She knew we had needed a brief break.

Brook worked… Well, like Brook. She hung back and fired. Up close, she only shape shifted when she had to, because I found out later it cost her energy. No, mostly she fought with two hunting knives, and so long she stuck with us, she fared well enough. She darted in where she was needed, that minute little detail, that clever little trick waiting in the wings. Fast as a snake and sharp as a sharpened claw.

Hunter was – and see, I warned you about this word – like a ninja. Her scythe was her dance partner, and it had the lead. She followed it, swinging around it, sometimes using the sword-like blade at the end to give a surprise attack. She flowed around the enemy like liquid gold and left liquid red in her wake. Save when she came across another machine person, another statue, which she usually like to behead and then split down the middle. Most automatons don't need heads, and she wanted to be thorough. Her eyes were narrowed and focused the whole time, as if she didn't know we were there, but I of course she did. We all were aware of each other. Not with our eyes most of the time, nor with our ears.

But we knew.

As time wore on, my sword got heavier. The dance became enduring. The sounds got louder. This was the one crowd I could stand, the crowd of a battle. Sure, I still felt a little claustrophobic, but it wasn't as bad as the dining hall. Here, we all knew our purpose, and few people made stupid mistakes. Yet even that, put up to this long test, began to turn on me. I felt the bodies pressing in and felt their heat and heard their cries. My limbs burned with exhaustion. I could not do this much longer, I knew.

And all the while the stars watched, recording what they saw as if taking notes on a teacher's lecture. Cold and almost completely uncaring.

The shadows, however, owned the night. This was their time. No more sunlight, and the moon's white wash was easy to overcome, especially when there were clouds. Here, they took form not just in their physical way, but in the minds of those surrounding us. When they sparked a reaction, they were happy, no matter what that reaction was. Mine was relief and eagerness and wonder. Many others had fear.

One thing about demigods – if you are smart, you're scared of the dark.

Rightly so. I remembered what Brook said about those hunting magazines she'd used to read, that it was like predator and prey with man's twist added in. She'd told me what the predator thinks; to survive, it feels the need to kill. Not necessarily the need for violence, but when driven, it comes easy. They simply slip into the state of mind that keeps them sane, that they deserve to live more than this small, thin scrap before them, and take it.

Kronos had taught me to be confident. Flawless. I didn't need him to tell me to have a strong self-esteem base.

But when it came time to use Întuneric for its darker purpose, it was always like predator and prey. I was the predator. I knocked aside those I had to and moved on, because it was them or me, and I wasn't about to let them put a sword through my throat. As time moved on and I grew even more exhausted, the small sense that I was winning something began to creep into my mind. Triumph, when you killed an enemy, because you saved your own life. You bested them in a nice competition they'd agreed to, that's all. The loser dies – so what? Quite a gruesome sport, but who cared? I was victorious. Small cause for celebration, closer to none, before moving on to the next match instinctively, led by those fast, flashing thoughts.

Eventually, I remember Herald falling into step beside us again, ducking around Hunter so she could dive in and skewer another robot. "HEY!" he yelled over the noise. "THIS IS IT!"

I glanced ahead. There, for even I knew that much, just across the street…

The Empire State Building.

We'd done it.

I could hear the fight all over now. We had the place surrounded. Demigods, nature spirits, automatons, and archers dressed in silver held our armies back. They were slowly inching backwards toward the doors, which were guarded by another small group. They had such small numbers, I almost felt a pang of pity for them.

Almost.

Then, slicing through the noise and the tension and the scent of blood, a clear horn went through the air. Kronos's signal. And there, I saw him – coming from Brooklyn in his chariot, flanked by giants carrying his purple flag. The black scythe design flapped happily above the spears and helmets.

I shoved my current opponent away – a boy with brown curls and a sneaky smile – and turned, cutting through the crowd to Kronos. Hunter and Ethan were on my heels, and Brook just behind them. Herald had managed to cut ahead of me.

As we went, one of the animated statues – I recognized some of them now, famous statues that had previously stood proudly over the city – grabbed at Brook. She screeched like a feral animal, not in pain but in fury and a little panic. I glanced over my shoulder – sure enough, she was trapped in metal arms, hunting knives lost in the crowd. The statue was trying to get a hold of her throat.

Ethan, who was closest, screamed a dirty word and lunged forward. His sword cleaved the head right off, but the arms still grappled. Hunter hissed and cut off one shoulder with the sword-like blade on the butt of her scythe.

Brook dropped from the statue, a hand to her bruised throat. Ethan yanked her up and spun her around, one arm around her shoulders and pressing her against him tightly as if she were his hostage, sword held out at two advancing demigods. My brown-haired friend, I saw, and someone who could have been his twin.

They hesitated, then turned and attacked two empousi.

Ethan released Brook and we turned, running for Kronos once more.

We reached his side just as Nick did. Herald was already there. We took up position in front of his chariot and to either side. I stood next to Brook and Ethan. Hunter was with Nick and Herald to the right. I held Întuneric at my waist as we marched, knowing now that I wasn't to attack anybody until ordered. We went painfully slow, as if Kronos had all the time in the world.

Well, I hadn't ever seen him go back in time, but perhaps he did.

He was as cold as the stars above, looming over us like one of the towers, golden eyes glittering like a sparking fuse.

Then, before we got any closer, chills dancing up my spine, a hunting horn sang high and true above the fight. The demigods defending stopped and glanced around. As I turned my head, the sound came again, from a different side. Even Kronos looked concerned, glancing curiously at the sky like it held an answer. Another horn, another, and another….

And before we knew it, we were surrounded.

oOo

**Nic: ENTER THE PARTAI PONIES!**

**Nyx: HIDE!**


	43. Little Talks

**DISCLAIMER: Rick Riordan owns PJatO and HoO. We do not. We just know all of Nico and Ethan's lines by heart, and fortunately, that does not make us the writers of the series.**

oOo

They were on the east side of the building. Percy Jackson was separated from them by a few meager lines of their allies. Ethan could see the son-of-a-hellhound's face – he was just as shocked as they were.

Then the northern flank started running.

"What in the name of the Fates…" he heard Kronos say. Ethan turned to look, but all he saw were fleeing monsters. They shot past, crashing into the eastern flank, weaving their way through until they slammed into the southern legions. Kronos roared angrily for them to stand their ground as a panicked Hyperborean – a giant ice giant – slammed into his chariot. Ethan flinched but knew better than to move. Panicked monster yowls drowned out the hunting horns.

"Yeah, baby! PARTY!"

"Oh, hell," Kronos muttered.

The lone voice came from a centaur; Ethan watched, shocked, as the horse-man seemed to materialize out of thin air. He spun out from nothing and landed on four hooves, bow raised high in triumph. His bay hide had _#AWESOME_ painted on one flank, and _TITN SLYR _on the other in bright green and blue. Red war paint was splattered on his face. The arrow notched in his bow, instead of having an arrowhead, sported a boxing glove fist.

In an instant, dozens more appeared, bursting into existence in an explosion of color. Paintball guns went off, splattering paint everywhere. Someone threw a bowling ball at Brook's head (which she dodged, thank the Fates). Chaos erupted among the monster army, moonlight dancing off turning figures. Not a weapon was raised. And in the blink of an eye, forty more centaurs had appeared. The hunting horn sounded again somewhere. The Titan army, even the giants carrying the flag, took one look at the ferocious horses and began to retreat.

Ethan watched with a wide eye. Monsters were exploding into dust around him. The horses on the chariot, skeletal, of course, yelled and tried to follow the retreating army. Bree flinched and barked at them in Latin. A dracaena screamed and went flying to the right. So much motion went on it was hard to keep track. Then the chariot began to turn, pulled by the horses.

"STOP!" Kronos yelled at them angrily, yanking on the reigns. "You listen to ME, you fools!"

Bree yelled in Latin again, and the horses dug their hooves into the asphalt.

But the army had already gone. Kronos and his guard were the last ones not streaming off of Fifth Avenue. A centaur, now free, caught sight of Ethan, Bree, and Brook standing there. He smiled in a very drunk way and yelled, "PARTAY! HAWAII OWNS YOUR FACES!" and charged with the speed of a racehorse.

Ethan leapt to one side, but before the horse got close, a silver arrow shaft appeared between his eyes. Another leapt out from behind him, quickly followed by two more, and too fast for Brook to shoot them all.

Ethan braced his feet, raised Savior, and waited.

At the last moment, he dove to one side, dodging a swinging cudgel and running his blade down the horse's flank. The centaur let out a bellow and whirled around, much too agile for a horse. Ethan scrambled to get out of the way. The centaur blew past, hooves thundering on the ground, yelling something about drowning him in root beer.

Something cold raced up Ethan's back. A moment later, a black bolt of energy slammed into the centaur and sent it crashing to the pavement, where it melted to golden dust.

Ethan whirled around, looking for more, but they were being pushed back now. The horses had detached themselves from the chariot and were running around, scared and eerie among the centaurs. Bree was yelling wildly at them and waving her arms. To the right, a flurry of golden magic was going off. Hunter, Ethan realized, for Kronos was still trying to rally the army.

"Stop running you fools!" Kronos bellowed. "Stand and – ACKK!"

A great shadow blocked out the stars, turning the world dark. Above, a giant blue Hyperborean giant was tipping, chest splattered with paintball marks. The ground shook as he slipped and, failing to catch himself, fell.

"MOVE!" Ethan screamed, and bolted.

Thankfully, Bree and Brook didn't ask questions. They followed on his heels. The ground let out a groan and trembled, like a giant cell phone on vibrate. There was a great crashing noise and the splintering of wood.

Ethan glanced back. The Hyperborean had crushed the chariot. Kronos was nowhere to be seen.

Centaurs streamed over the fallen giant, hooves clacking like dry bones and savage war cries tearing at the sky. Ethan glanced at the retreating armies – and realized, with a sinking heart, that he and the Guard were at the back. And when you're being chased by things that want to kill you, you don't want to be the slowest runner.

Another sharp yell split the night, and a golden blur slammed into the nearest centaur. Hunter's scythe flashed out and the creature exploded into dust. She kept going, lunging past Ethan and onto another, leaping off a mailbox to get air. The centaur glanced, but not soon enough –

Her scythe moved once, easily, like it had all been plotted out. She landed on the balls of her feet in a shower of golden dust, knees bent and scythe held out behind her for balance.

"Gogogo!" Hunter yelled, motioning for them to run. Even Nick obeyed. They turned and ran after the army. A moment later, Ethan felt Hunter's footsteps beside him. Then, sending bile up his throat, the matching pair of Kronos's pounding boots.

The pavement seemed to fall away. His feet moved faster than they had before. The city shot by in blurs of grey and the occasional blotch of color, zooming past like cars on a highway. The street rushed up at him as if he were flying. Surprisingly, his eye kept track of it – noting every single obstacle in his way, moving his feet to avoid it. After a moment, it wasn't so shocking, but in contrast quite glorifying. He felt like, since he was faster, he was better than this world that moved by so quickly. Stronger, faster, and better.

Time-warp.

Hunter's eyes were glowing like mad. Kronos was in the lead, golden eyes also sparking. They shot north up Fifth Avenue and left the crazy centaurs behind, nothing more than savage cheering in the distance.

To the east, the sun had begun to rise. The stars had started to fade and the sky blur to grey. Ethan swallowed thickly and cast one more glance behind them, just to make sure – but there was no pursuit, and they were far from Olympus now.

His fingers brushed the precious gun in his jacket. His heart began to pound for real, worse than it had during the fighting. He had felt it inside him as the army began to break, as their confidence fell and they began to retreat, something oh so strong before breaking into scattered, vulnerable parts. Then they had retreated, too, and it all fell apart so fast…

…And now he was here. Olympus had not fallen, he had not used the gun, and Kronos had sworn something terrible awaiting him for his defiance when they got back to camp. A horrible feeling settled in his stomach. He glanced at Hunter, and she met his eye – she felt the same. She knew that the day to come would be worse than the night they had just lived through.

The first rays of sun peeked through Brooklyn and touched Ethan's face. He flinched, for all night, he had been dreading the sunrise.

oOo

"Here," Kronos said, and the time-warped stopped. I stumbled to a standstill, nearly slamming into a car, cursing angrily that he and Hunter couldn't have done that smoother. We stood next to a white concrete wall that seemed to stretch for ages. At the end, a tall, proud, silver skyscraper challenged the disappearing stars. All along the wall were flags, flags, and more flags, all sporting different colors and patterns. "We will make camp here. Daughter, blow the whistle I gave you. It'll summon the monsters, and the half-bloods shall follow."

I slumped heavily against the car and stared at the building. Strange, I ought to know what it was…

A hand grabbed my shoulder gently, though I'm sure the car didn't need help supporting my weight. "You alright?"

"Fine," I rasped, glancing up at Ethan. Scratches on my shoulder, leg, and collar bone burned and stung like I'd taken a bath in lemon juice. Him, he looked okay – the wound from the arrow hadn't done much. He had a bruise gathering on his cheek, but it looked fixable. "You?"

"I'm alright," he replied so smoothly I was positive he was lying. But I was too tired to care enough to ask.

Whatever whistle Hunter blew, I didn't hear it, but when I glanced around again monsters were filing into the streets. Some pushed cars out of their way. Others batted at them like they were pesky flies. Luckily, though, it seemed that the Olympians had managed to drag aside many of the mortals that had fallen asleep here, too.

I turned, looking for Kronos, and stumbled. My sword had disappeared somewhere – I'd surely have lost it if it didn't return to my pocket – and my limbs felt like they were made of iron. That is, heavy. At last I saw him; a patch of golden hair walking up to the flags, followed closely by Hunter. The white scar on his face glowed in the growing light.

I shoved off the car and followed Brook and Ethan and the rest of the Guard as they gathered around him. Brook was limping slightly, and Ethan kept rubbing his arm, but we were for the most part okay. More and more monsters were gathering, and when I lost sight of Kronos, Ethan would grab my shoulder and tug me along behind him.

The Titan lord looked surprised to see us show up, as if we'd interrupted something important. "Hello. What do you want?" he asked, feigning a smile.

"Orders," Hunter answered for us.

"Ah. Well, Nakamura, I have a few tasks for you. Daughter, you as well. The rest of you eat something and go to sleep. You especially, Bree – you and I are training later before we move out again, am I clear?"

I nodded, quite glad. "Yes, my lord." I heard people mumbling their own answers. Then Ethan had a hand on my shoulder again and was leading me towards the massive building. As we walked past the flags, I dimly remembered the name of this place – the UN Headquarters. United Nations.

Ha. That seemed funny, holding a war base here. But, for the meantime, I was fine with it.

We got inside. I made my way to a nearby chair and fell asleep before I could even wonder when Kronos wanted me awake again.

oOo

Ethan glanced behind him as the doors to the building closed, feeling queasy. He was exhausted from the fight, and covered in various cuts and bruises, but he knew it wouldn't stop Kronos.

He stared just a moment longer at the building's interior, where the Guard had retreated to be free of the monsters and crashed in the chairs set along the walls. His gaze landed on Bree and Brook; the former was slumped in a chair, and the latter curled up at her feet.

For a moment, panic seized his throat. Neither would ever know what happened to him if he didn't come back from whatever Kronos had planned. But they would know where to look, and that'd have to be enough.

He wished he could leave them with more, maybe a goodbye, but forced his gaze away and marched back to where Kronos stood at the flags, overlooking the gathering monsters. Demigods had started to arrive, too. To the Titan's right was Prometheus, a tall man with dark hair and scratches all over his face, dressed in a tux. To his left was Hunter, who looked cool and confident, as if she hadn't just retreated with an army out of the biggest battle of the century. Well, in the demigod world, at least. And very much like she wasn't about to get beat.

"Nakamura," Kronos greeted him coolly without looking, just as Ethan considered hiding.

"…M-my lord?" Ethan asked, feeling like a gnat stuck to flypaper.

The flyswatter, Kronos's scythe, swung back and forth calmly as the Crooked One twisted the shaft in his fingers. "Make sure the demigods have provisions and are well-rested. I am sending the monsters back out into battle at noon, and we will follow an hour later. Am I clear?"

Ethan hesitated. Kronos had fought this battle overnight for a reason. As far as Ethan remembered, too, while in Luke's body he needed sleep as much as any other person. A strange mix of dread and relief settled in his stomach.

Kronos wanted the war to end. Now. And as gut-wrenching as that was, it turned his attention away from Ethan and Hunter's insubordination for the time being.

"…Is that all, my lord?"

"Well, I want you awake by eleven thirty, as well as Hunter and Bree. It is six now. I suggest you take care of your kind and then get to sleep." He offered Ethan a glittering smile, white teeth through red lips arched around a frosty scar, a smile that had meant happiness on Luke's face. But golden eyes burned with hate so strong Ethan half-expected the Titan lord to kill him where he stood. "You won't be getting any once this war is over, Nakamura, I can assure you that."

Ethan's stomach flipped over. So Kronos hadn't forgotten.

"Go, Nakamura. And do not enter my sight unless I have called you there, understood?"

Ethan glanced at Hunter, wondering what would become of her once he left. Maybe she'd be ordered to rest, too; after all, Ethan knew she was of more importance than himself. "…Yes, my lord."

Hunter nodded once, curtly, to let him know she'd be alright.

Kronos turned his cornered gaze away and focused on the flag poles. "Then be gone."

oOo

"Brianna. Up. Now."

"Ut," I muttered, hiding my eyes in my sleeve to escape the leaking daylight. "No."

"_No?"_ the voice spat back, furious.

I jumped out of my chair, nearly stepping on Brook. "I'm sorry! I thought you were someone else!"

Kronos glared at me with narrow eyes. "Yes, well, you know who I am now. Take five minutes to tend to your wounds, then meet me back behind the wall with the flags. We have work to do."

He left, and I ran into the ladies' room to do as he said. That's right, training today. Strange, it had been so bright outside… What, were we planning to attack before nightfall? When the Olympian power was stronger, and while Kronos's army needed rest?

I stared at myself in the mirror, pausing in mid-wrap, white bandage quivering in my hand. Maybe that was it. Maybe we had done so much, we were that confident now. Maybe we were powerful enough to crush them as soon as we could. Best do it fast while their armies were tired, too, I guess.

I rubbed nectar on my scratches, brushed my teeth, and headed out back to find Kronos.

He was waiting where he'd promised, in the clearing behind the wall, well out of sight of everyone. "There you are. You mortals are so slow."

"Us mortals can't control time," I said.

"Your sister can."

"Well, I'm not my sister, my lord," I said, standing at attention. While backtalk was not tolerated, he enjoyed an intelligent conversation now and then. Besides, he usually allowed me to say what I wanted during these sessions. So long I was not disrespectful, I had free range.

"I can't tell you how glad you aren't," Kronos smiled, and I knew that chat-time was over. He began to pace in circles. It took me a minute to realize that he was walking around me, eyes prodding, as if searching for something on my clothes. Uncomfortable, I shuffled and moved from foot to foot, but resisted the urge to turn with him and block his view.

He was nodding slowly. "…Is there something you would like to review?"

"My lord?"

"Review. From what I've taught you. Is there something you consciously feel that you lack? Confidence? Power? Speed? Cunning? Tell me."

I shuddered, remembering my confidence the night before. "Um… I don't know, my lord. The demigods, spirits, and statues we fight don't ever require the level of fighting you train me for. So I don't know what I have and what I lack."

He scowled. "You have practiced with me, though, and I demand that you fight on that level. There is no reason you should not know."

I bowed my head sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

"Apology not accepted. Stand straight, girl! For crying out loud, look alive!"

"I haven't had much sleep-"

"-You have, child. I control time, remember? I gave you the equivalent of fifteen hours of sleep, as I did for the rest of the Guard. I, on the other hand, have not had any sleep. I should be an easy target." He drew his scythe in the shape of a sword, letting the sun catch its side, beckoning me forward. "Or are you a coward?"

I scowled, drew Întuneric, and lunged.

Fighting with Kronos was not like fighting the enemy. Not for real. Sure, all background noise faded and I focused on the basics; my target, myself, and anything that managed to move fast in my field of view. But that target and myself, we were very different from what we were when battling the Olympians.

For one, Kronos moved a lot faster. He moved farther away and then would rush up real fast, a deadly charge, scythe glinting happily in the sunlight. He'd use magic. Golden whips and sharp, deadly blades. He was clever; he pulled tricks, never gave me a warning before trying something new.

It put me in survival mode. I moved faster, too. I kicked myself into gear, really worked at it, had to incorporate everything I knew into my dance. This was a more dangerous one. I had to recognize patterns and look farther ahead, all while working more complicated footwork, more complicated sword strikes based off simple concepts, and dodging a faster enemy. I had to use magic, too – springing off Stygian iron like I had so long ago, using it to my advantage, sometimes as a shield. I called the shadows – they were pacified in the sunlight, but I did my best – from their colonies at the base of the building and the wall, from the windows on the building bordering the clearing's other side, and fired them at will. They worked as deflectors, too, angrily batting away any foreign matter that collided into their midst. Întuneric, they put up with. Both shadow and sword hummed with energy when they touched. The three of us, my blade, myself, and my magic, worked as the perfect team.

That little core of magic I didn't understand, the one that insisted it was important, I had learned to ignore. I knew what I was.

The goal here was to kill Kronos as fast as I could, but to keep myself in the best shape possible. That meant do it fast, and do it smart. Of course, in a stressed situation, I could shadow travel past and swipe his throat with Întuneric. But I wouldn't ever try that unless under pressure for the energy it cost. So here we were, fighting.

I liked this dance, very much. Very ingenious, very clever. It kept me on my toes, kept me moving, gave me the low, constant burn of movement in my muscles, edging on tiredness. But always alert, always aware. Sharp and clever as a cat, that's what we both were. The fast-paced thrill never ceased to please me. We were untouchable, cunning, clever, powerful. And yet so much of it came in that same simple, instinctive concept it had before, despite the increased difficulty.

When doing this… I felt like I finally found myself. No more uncertainty. No more wondering. And no matter who I faced….

A thought crossed my mind, a dark one, and for the smallest second I hesitated. That was all it took. Kronos's scythe slammed into my back, the flat side shoving me to the ground like I'd been struck by a tennis racket. Pain shot down my limbs and I crashed into the concrete floor, hard. My breath vanished.

Gasping painfully like a landed fish, I glanced up at him, knowing by all rights I had lost. But that thought still clung to my mind, and I was going to ask him.

He was scowling down at me. "What was _that?!"_

I coughed and sucked in a breath, feeling the warm air flood my lungs at last. Such a relief. I blinked, soaking it in, before answering. "…I'm sorry. Slip of mind. It won't happen again." Slowly, I got to my feet, knowing he wasn't going to help me. My elbows were scraped, but I could live with that.

"It happened once; it can happen again!" he snapped, starting to pace again. "Are you insane?! Do you plan to fight this war like that?!"

"No, my lord."

"No is right! Draw your sword; we're doing it again!" he snarled, and I imagined saliva dripping off his teeth like the mouth of a rabid, angry dog.

"My lord, may I… Ask a question first? It's about this training. I think I found my weak spot."

"Pray tell, child! At last!" He rolled his eyes. "What?"

"…The dark-haired boy. The one with the light eyes. And Brianna. And all those other people. You… You were mean to them. Right?"

"Do not sugarcoat it. I tortured them for their insubordination. Why?"

"This… This training isn't so that I can be your torturer? It's not so that I know how to fight and find places of pain and… And hurt people?"

His sharp gaze grew brighter, and when he spoke, his voice was calm as a pond on a summer day. "Child, you are being trained to be an assassin. I thought I made that clear. And _assassin _is not the same as _torturer."_

"No, I mean the mental training. When you taught me how to think. 'Rewiring myself', I think you called it."

He laughed bitterly, eyes blazing like fire. "Do you wish to know what I have in store for you, child? Do you lack trust in me so faithfully? Very well, I will tell you; you are my assassin. You are my hunting dog. I am teaching you to kill our enemies without hesitation or resent. You are a killer; you are a demon; you will be the blood-stained killer that haunts the night. You will scare my subjects into obedience." He laughed again, a sound like shattered glass. "Yes, your state of mind is very important to me. Your 'wiring' matters. You are going to hang the skulls of your enemies on your fence and be my spy, my assassin, my precious little knife. Knifes are so much more capable than swords, don't you think? Clever, able to reach small places." Another laugh that made me flinch. "That is what I have in store for you. It is what I promised, isn't it? Don't you dream of that kind of power?"

Don't I… Don't I _what?!_

"What if I don't want to kill people," I spat. I felt like I'd swallowed that broken glass. "That's murder."

"Murder is not the worse crime you will commit, child. There are worse things."

Murder. Oh, my gods, he wanted me to murder people. I grit my teeth and shook my head – he'd told me this, hadn't he? That I was an assassin? "But… But that's not what demigods…"

"Ah, and that's just it. You aren't a demigod, child. And let me tell you something; Titans are not classified as immortals. We are classified as demons. See, we are not so different, you and I."

Something churned in my stomach. Fear. The look in his eyes was insane. I had to get out of here. So I grit my teeth and growled, "No."

"No, child? Do tell me you're not still asleep."

_ "I SAID NO!"_

Silence.

"And I'm not tired," I growled. "I don't care what my pedigree says, I don't care what you've done to me, I don't care who you want me to kill. But demigods… The children of the gods are meant to be killers. Of _demons._ Not people. You won't ever convince me otherwise."

I swallowed thickly, looking for an escape route. There was none.

He was quiet for a moment, studying me, eyes glinting silently.

I didn't see him move. I just felt his hand crack across my face with enough strength to make me stagger. I gasped and shoved my sword into the ground for balance, whipping my head up to see him, but he didn't make another move. Which was good; the shock blooming like a bloodstain in my chest wouldn't have allowed me to react.

"You," he growled, "do not have a choice. You will do my bidding."

"I'm not your guard dog or whatever!" I growled. No. I would not let this happen. And until I got away, he could put up with my spite.

"You are!" he howled, and cut himself off with another shattered laugh. "There are things an abused dog can learn! Watch me!" His gaze landed on mine again, sharp and paralyzing. "Abused dogs _obey."_

I took a step backwards. Had to get away, had to get away… But I was scared to shadow travel. Where would I go that he couldn't find me? "I won't."

"You will!" he spat. "You will do what I say, and right now, I say _train!_ Come at me again until you learn, girl! You stupid little mortal!"

He was coming undone. I could hear it. He never used the words 'stupid' or 'hate' unless pushed beyond his limits. Something hard boiled in his eyes, some conflict I had missed. He was in a bad mood. Crud, why did I have to ask today….

"I'm not stupid," I growled, "and I think I've trained enough. I can handle myself."

"You are mistaken, child. Do you think there is a way out of this? Olympus is as well as mine! And with it, the world! Don't you realize that you are stuck? Don't you know that you are mine, through and through?" He chuckled again. His scythe glittered in the sunlight. "You are stuck."

No. No, I knew it was true, but still I shook my head. My heart was pounding like crazy. He was threatening me now. "I…"

"If you don't, girl, once this war is over I will hunt you down. There won't be a single living cell able to escape my attention. Even the Underworld will fall. You will bring it down, and until then, you will not find shelter there. Your father hates you. So listen to me when I say this; I am your _everything._ I am your _life. _You will listen and obey, understood?"

"So this is it?" I managed. My own laugh stirred somewhere. Gods, you don't have to be inhuman to know that the price for loving irony is having it love you right back. "…This is what you had in mind? Threats and dark promises? All along?"

Had I seriously been _right?_ Over _Hunter?_

I was answered with another slap. I gasped, blinking the stars out of my eyes. I heard him lean closer and growl, "But if you follow me, girl…. Do what I ask…. If you cooperate, I will give you one task. One task, and then make you swear not to interfere with my rule. Do these things, and I will let you go."

I froze.

"I know what this year has been like for you. I saw you discover the son of Hecate dead in his cell. I knew of every fight you had with Hunter. I know how badly you want to leave."

Silence.

"I know you can't go until Hunter and Brook go with you. Ethan, too, I'm guessing?"

I had no answer.

"What if you could save them?" Then his hand grabbed my face and jerked it up so that I was staring him in the face, golden eyes boring into me. "If you do as I demand, girl, once I am done with you, you are free to go. And so are they."

"You would…"

"But if you disobey me, child…" The scythe glinted, lowering towards my face. I stifled a scream – that blade reeked of death and something much, much darker. "…I will take my anger out on them."

I waited, images flashing before my eyes that I never wanted to see. Of Brook in the Hecate kid's place. Of Hunter cornered, a sneer on her face, bruises covering every inch of skin. Ethan, blind, his other eye ripped out, hands groping around, trying to find anything to defend himself with…

Kronos let me go and backed away slowly. He left himself exposed; he did not level his scythe. I was no threat.

I was beat, and he knew it. I couldn't ever do something that'd hurt them.

"Now," he said, calm voice shaking like he was on the edge of laughter again. "I said train."

I swallowed thickly. "M-my lord?"

The name made his grin grow wider. "Yes, child?" A giggle burst through his lips.

"…Must we train more today? It's noon. The monsters are moving out, and I have things to do. And with… With you and Ethan and the others, I don't think I'll need any more practice to… To help you take Olympus."

Fear made my voice shake. For the first time in ages, I feared for my life. Not that it was the first time it was in danger, but it was the first time I fully registered it.

He shook his head. "No. You need training. Come at me again."

"…But, my lord…"

"Did we not just establish the fact that you are _mine?!"_ he growled, eyes flashing again. Without meaning to, I flinched. "I said _train!"_

I raised my sword in shaking hands. He struck it twice with his scythe and sent it skidding.

His glower landed on me again. "Girl…"

"My lord, I don't feel well. May I please go?"

"Prove to me you can do all I require you to first," he spat.

I took a deep breath. "I'm the fastest swordfighter. Ethan can't beat me when we duel. I am not a demigod; I am more, and my powers reach much farther than that of a half-blood. Aside from Hunter, I am your best warrior. You told me that yourself. Now, please, may I go-"

"_I DON'T CARE!"_

I froze again. He was going to kill me, I knew it. Then he'd turn that cursed blade on Brook. My little, wide-eyed, smiling Brook. On spiteful Hunter. On clever Ethan. It felt like I wouldn't be able to move for years, I was so terrified.

"I don't care if you're the fastest! I don't care if you're an underworld child!" he shrieked. Still undone. Still broken. "It doesn't matter to me if you are the fastest _of _the underworld children. I do not need you to be the best underworld child." He stepped forward, scythe glowing like a daytime crescent moon, leveled with my throat. My hands began to shake even harder. "I do not need you to be the fastest. I do not need you to be the cleverest. I do not need you to be the smartest. I do not need you to be the most skillful. Those things are not my needs and not what I ask of you, so to you, they _do not matter,_ am I clear? It does not matter to me even if you were the wildest, most feared child of Hades/Pluto in history;

"It matters to me that you are the _final _one."

oOo

**Nyx: DUN DUN DUUUUUUN!**

**Nic: Oooh, another cliffy! Sort of. Big reveal. Woot.**

**Nyx: Thanks a ton to all who reviewed, and for those who care, the cover will be up later this week. Yay! And we also updated our profile. Not much else will go on there, except for random quotes or lines from favored books or animes or jokes.**

**Nic: Now, this week, we want to know what's forefront on your mind after reading. Whatever has affected you the most, review about it! Give us all your thoughts! We'd really appreciate it!**

**Nyx: Come back next week! You won't believe what you read….**

14


	44. Razor's Edge

**DISCLAIMER: Rick Riordan owns PJatO, not us. **

**Review Responses:**

**Guest: Yay for psychic powers! We're doing the skip a few hours thing again today, but posting three a week on different days was our plan for the next book. We just didn't want to start it until then. And thank you – glad we could offer some good entertainment.**

**Assassin427: Thanks for reviewing! It wasn't really meant to be a cliff hanger – there is no situation to finish here – but it was supposed to shock the reader and make them want to read more. I wasn't really trying to hide what Kronos wants of Bree, either – at least, not in that scene. **

**Note: Nyx is late posting again today because despite her cat's pleads for breakfast at six, she slept in. Sorry! There will be another post and one and another at six, give or take a few hours depending on your time zone. Mainly, three hours from now, and then five hours from that.**

oOo

He darted through the lobby quietly, wanting to be out of the blinding white lights above yet doing his best to avoid waking anyone. Lots of demigods had gathered in here to shelter from the wild demons – they slept on the floors, in the chairs, down the halls, curled up in corners, beneath desks, like a living carpet. Or a horde of cats. The smell of stale air had been replaced with the scents of blood, disinfecting herbs, and sweat. The Guard slept near the doors, in chairs – save Brook, of course, who was curled on the floor next to Bree's empty seat.

Ethan went out the front doors and made sure to close them carefully behind him. Kronos stood on their other side, staring out over the small amount of remaining monsters and the empty streets. Several of the flags had been cut down. They lay across cars, crushed beneath the poles, the flags splayed out across ruins like slain soldiers. The poles sticking out of the concrete looked sharp and forbidding. Way off in the distance, Ethan could hear the roar of a fight.

He swallowed thickly. "…My lord? I can't hear the drakon."

"It is dead," Kronos said simply. Crap, he was ticked. "Clarisse killed it. Daughter of Ares."

"…Ah. Did the spy tell us that?"

"The spy betrayed us and was killed by the drakon."

"…Oh."

They were quiet for a moment, listening to the fight rage on. Ethan imagined that half of the noise was made by the Party Pony centaurs alone – screaming for root beer and wasting monsters. He shuddered. Their wild behavior was scarier than any demigod he'd faced. Even Jackson.

"Nakamura?" Kronos asked eventually.

"…Yes, my lord?"

"You told me yesterday that abused dogs can't learn anything."

"My lord, I said… I said that you wouldn't teach a dog anything _by _abusing it, not that the dog is hindered by its past."

"Same difference in my mind, Nakamura, so it is the same difference in yours. But I think I have proved you wrong."

A cold feeling settled in Ethan's stomach. He glanced around and realized for the first time, Hunter wasn't with her father. Yet she wasn't inside. His heart began to beat faster.

"Abused dogs learn to obey," Kronos said without waiting for Ethan to guess.

Ethan swallowed thickly and glanced around again. No sign of Hunter. Or Bree, for that matter. She'd finished training; she usually disappeared and did random things when her sisters were busy and she was bored, but now, Ethan realized she might not be gone by her own free will.

It felt like he'd swallowed a golf ball. His hands began to shake, but not with fear. With anger. His tongue flexed itself, dying for his lips to open and demand what Kronos had done. If he'd hurt them, and Ethan hadn't stopped him in time…

"Dad!"

He closed his eyes and sighed, hoping Kronos didn't see it.

Hunter ran up from the corner of the building Ethan couldn't see behind and handed a small note to her father. "Prometheus said to give this to you."

"Ah, thank you," Kronos said. As he read it, Ethan's eyes skimmed lightly over Hunter – she was unharmed, smiling, actually.

He sighed eventually and handed the note back. "Tell him to shove this down the falcons' throats, will you? Nakamura, we need to get moving. Wake the demigods."

"…Yes, my lord," Ethan said. His stomach twisted uneasily.

Typhon was due to arrive soon. Either way, this war would be over by sundown.

He kept an eye out for Bree as he darted inside and gently shook Brook awake. She blinked up at him with glazed eyes. "…Hm?"

"Get up," he whispered. "We're moving out soon. And stay away from Kronos. He's in a bad mood."

She nodded and stretched, like a cat, lying on her side but curling backwards with her arms and legs outstretched. He got up and left her, jumping around to the other demigods. Herald was closest.

"Hey, man," Herald sighed as he got up. He rubbed his eyes. "…We marching off?"

"It seems so," Ethan said grimly, glancing through the clear doors at Hunter and her father. They were talking calmly, now and then gesturing to the south, indicating the fight. Ethan remembered how Kronos had beat her into silence over his 'discipline methods' and a bitter taste filled his mouth.

Herald was watching, too. "…How many _you know what_ do you have, Vengeance?"

"So many I lost count, Trade," Ethan replied softly. They weren't code names; they were Herald's slang terms, and they'd stuck. "One less, now that Kyle's dead."

Silence hung over them. Herald because he now felt awkward – Ethan could tell. But in his own throat was a small crack, threatening to spread.

He was glad, especially after Bree's anguish over the Hecate kid, that he'd had the courage to befriend Kyle, Son-of-None, before all of this. At least someone would be there to remember and tell Kyle's story long after those telltale four letters faded from history.

Outside, Kronos was grimacing. Not in a mean way – he almost looked pained. Hunter's gaze was skimming the street, carefully avoiding his.

"…Vengeance?"

"Yes, Travel?"

"You said Nemesis stood for something else. I forget what it is."

"Balance," Ethan said distractedly. Herald said something more, contemplating, but he had stopped listening. Hunter was speaking now, motioning forlornly to the south, red lips and white teeth forming sharp, crystal words that Ethan couldn't read. Her gaze fleeted up to Kronos, who was staring intently at her now.

The Titan said something, wide sharp eyes steady, a hand lifting up and down nervously like he couldn't figure out what to do with it. Just as Ethan was thinking he ought to just hit himself in the face, Hunter said something else, and the two stepped closer and hugged.

It was a strange sight. But there was no mistaking it; it was a hug. Kronos's arms tightened around her in a way Ethan would've called protective if he hadn't seen him hit his daughter. He dimly recalled Kronos saying something about not knowing what to do with himself if Hunter died.

Thing was, though, she didn't seem to think it was a lie. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to relax, like she found it comforting, like… Like he was her father. Like he hadn't ever raised his hand or scythe against her.

Why the Styx…?

Ethan sighed and shook his head, abandoning it. He'd found out long ago that he wasn't smart enough to understand everything, and wasn't about to reinvestigate. Especially when it concerned a murderer's relationships.

"Hey. Man, you listening?"

"Hm? Oh, sorry," Ethan said, tearing his gaze from father and daughter. They had begun to separate, anyway. "What?"

"I said it suits you. 'Balance.' Better than vengeance."

Ethan raised an eyebrow and tapped his jacket, indicating the gun beneath. "It does?"

"Yeah, man. This ain't vengeance. That's what Mr. Vanilla over there wants. This is something else."

"Balance, apparently."

"Yup. Something of the sort. But it's not exactly vengeance. That's taking revenge for something."

Ethan glanced once more at Kronos and Hunter, thinking of balance and vengeance. "…That still doesn't make this _not _vengeance."

"You know what, dog? You can go confuse people somewhere else. I'm gonna get ready so Mr. Vanilla doesn't bust by but for being unprepared."

Ethan sighed and stood. "Vanilla?"

"Yeah. Vanilla."

"Look man…" Herald sighed and seemed to hesitate. "…Don't make me have to fire that gun, alright? You need to be around to do it. I don't trust my depth perception."

The familiar words rang in Ethan's ears, almost forcing a smile from him. "I'll do my best. Meet you once it's all over? At the doors to the Empire State Building?"

"See you there," Herald said, and turned to rummage through his bag.

Ethan sighed and – wishing he'd said something of the sort to Kyle two days ago – walked to the next demigod, shaking them awake. Then the next, and the next. Some weren't gracious about it, but that was fine by him. Others just got up without a word or sound, moving straight toward their bags and armor and weapons. Taylor – a Hecate kid Ethan dimly remembered Kronos mentioning for some reason – gave him a sarcastic gee-thanks-a-lot-jerk smile and 'accidentally' whacked him with her bag as she stood.

He dodged it and scowled, deciding he didn't like her.

As he went across the room, he kept an eye open for Bree. But she had vanished; now that the noise of a preparing army filled the air, she should've come back. A cold, hard feeling settled in his stomach – and Hunter didn't come to relieve him of it this time.

The next time he passed Brook, he waved her over. If Kronos had done something, he needed to find out, and fast. Especially if it was something along the lines of the Hecate kid. Otherwise, he'd have Brook help him search. But he knew, and he dreaded, something gone horribly wrong and told her instead, "Keep waking them up. I've got an errand to run."

"Okay," she said. It made him feel guilty. She didn't even ask what this errand was; she just trusted him and that he would speak up if something was really wrong.

He had no idea why, though, because he'd kept his mouth shut about everything so far.

oOo

I felt like I had that day I had refused to call in sick and gone to school anyway, knowing we had a two-mile run in gym class. As soon as I'd finished I'd run for the bathrooms and locked myself in a stall, leaning against the walls, wondering if I'd vomit or pass out first.

No, I am not the best split-decision maker. In a fight, it's instinct, hardly a decision at all if it's been drilled into your mind like it was to me. But anything else? Naw, I don't panic, but I'm not _smart._

Hence me hiding now.

Just like that day, I was fleeing my problems, my legs were shaking and my stomach felt like it was in WWIII against my intestines, and the last thing I wanted to do was stand up, put on a game face, and march out there like nothing was wrong. Oh, I knew I had to, but it was so unrealistic it made me laugh. A barking, crazy laugh.

Oh, look at that! I was already on my way!

He'd told me I'd end up a demon. He'd told me I'd be a monster. And what the Crooked One says is law, right? When he orders something, you do it? Hasn't that always been the number-one unspoken rule?

When had I decided to break it?

I had killed before. I knew it. I had blood on my hands. I'd killed demigods – not just demons or nature spirits, _demigods _– before. But it was always in a fight. Always at war. Had there been gods I trusted, I'd have prayed for them every day.

But this… This was different. And I'd _known _I was to be an assassin, in his eyes – he'd told me so, flat out. No secrets there. Why had I let him continue… Let it get this far…

All Kronos had ever wanted was this. For me to be his sadistic servant. That's all I could be, after all – look at Nico, grown up so different from me, but victim the same fate I was now stuck with. It really was the only option for Underworld children, wasn't it?

I had no one to blame but myself. I'd gotten us in this mess, because I hadn't spoken up. My freaking fault. All of it.

Kronos's words echoed in my mind;

_Don't you want that kind of power?_

The idea of that kind of power was going to make me hurl, thank you very much.

I considered falling asleep. Dreaming. Ha, and do what, exactly? Warn him? Now, I didn't want to kill the kid, but I wasn't about to save his life, either. Nor give away any sort of my own personal status.

Run? With Kronos's daughter in tow? Suicide. We'd all be cut up like that dark-haired boy.

Defy Kronos? Ha! With what freaking army?! And watch Brook have her fingers broken one by one, then beat with gods-knew-what, cut with a knife to let cascades of crimson flood the floor at her feet? As if.

Obey Kronos? Listen to what he said, become that demon just once, allow myself one kill and hope I didn't go insane? It'd keep the others safe. Besides, chances were someone would have to face Nico at some point in time. He'd die eventually, like us all…

Call me a coward, but I knew that obeying Kronos was my only realistic option, and I hated it. I was scared out of my mind. All this rewiring was to make me think like my brother. To make me act like him. All Kronos wanted of me, all he'd ever wanted, was a replica of my demonic sibling trapped in his service.

By this point I had truly discarded all other ideas. It was not fear of Brook being hurt or killed – no, I had cast that option aside. It was no longer possible. I would take the last option, and all my nausea, all my fear, was entirely for myself now.

I tried to lie. I told myself it wasn't that bad. I hated my brother, right? And I had killed demigods before… This one was practically a demon himself! Why should I be ashamed of killing him, this insane brother I had never cared for?

But my rewiring said different. My rewiring, all the training… It said Nico wasn't a demon. It said he was an inferior. I should kill him just because I could, because if I could win the dance then I deserved the spoils.

No. Killing Nico was not killing a demon. Killing my brother was succumbing to his level, to a deep predatory instinct that made me eager to lunge for a throat, becoming the very thing I was trying so hard to avoid. The very fate I'd been warned about.

I didn't like this. I felt horrible even for thinking about it. I felt horrible climbing up to my current perch, for I was using the same lessons that'd involved 'rewiring' and hitting 'targets.' The thought of serving Kronos one hour more, of killing another child, of using such deadly tactics that made it seem so unfair…

That's what made me feel sick. The dread. I was falling apart, I knew it. I swear, even then, I could hear the screams of a battle. I could see blood flash in the starlight and feel the lag of Întuneric sunk into flesh. Now being forced (because of my own stupidity, no doubt) to deliberately plan and assassinate someone, I felt myself starting to break. For real.

I hadn't ever considered hunting Nico down on my own. So hearing the suggestion, it screamed _wrong! Wrong!_ in my mind. This rewiring… If I killed him with that, I truly would be no better than him. If I fought and killed him with that idea that I was better, that I was the hunter and he was naught but a target, if I killed him mindless to the fact that he was my age and the closest blood relative I had…. Hey, that'd be what he'd do if he'd been killing me, so should I do it, I was that awful demon everyone had said my kind were.

And I'd do it. I'd kill him with that exact thought, that I was superior, that I liked this faster-paced dance and that I was thrilled to win it. I'd do it in a heartbeat, which made it worse. Albeit, there were lives on the line, but that didn't really change anything.

I shook my head vigorously and summarized; I was now willing, as soon as Brook had been mentioned, to not only kill a child but to make myself a dark, evil demon. There were no other options.

And so I had nothing left to do but sulk. At least, until it was time to move out.

I curled up – I had found a random meeting room with chairs stacked in the back, two the same height next to one another providing a small hidden platform, and happily climbed up there – and closed my eyes, allowing my conscious to beat at my mind and scream that I was a horrible person. I was, I really was.

And I let myself be scared.

I wanted nothing more than to escape it all. I was scared of my decided fate, of facing it, of Kronos looming over my shoulder every step of the way. I was so scared of that scythe. So scared of these horrible things he'd forced upon me, so scared of the way he'd let me walk straight into a trap of my own accord, scared that he'd turn on Brook no matter what I did. Just the idea made my hands shake.

I let myself feel anything I wanted. I'd already resolved to go out there and fight, already made my decision – I'd follow through when the time came. But right then, I was too overwhelmed to reinforce any type of self-control, especially since no one was there to see me break down.

By the time I was found, I was busy hearing Kronos's laughter and feeling his scythe pressed to my back. I stared down at my feet – there, in a puddle of blood, was the raven. Its neck had been snapped so sharply, bone poked through twisted, dull feathers. They had lost their shine. The once-beautiful bird was this broken, ugly thing at my feet, no longer something of fear (which was respect, if you think about it), stripped of everything that'd made it _it _and now lifeless, never to fly again, because I had done it. I'd killed the raven. It felt like I'd been shot through the middle. Ah, but see, the guilt was nothing compared to the exhilarating ice in my veins. It tasted like shadows, like freezing, liquid adrenaline. I was torn between horror and victory, between sneering and screaming, over the death of a child….

"Bree?"

The voice broke through my half-dream, half-waking nightmare. Kronos's laughter vanished and I opened my eyes, staring at the wall. Pressed up behind me were the backs of the chairs. Somewhere beyond them, in the conference room or out in the hall, I heard footsteps and a voice.

"Bree! I know you're in here somewhere! Come out, please!"

I frowned, because it's pretty rare that you hear Ethan begging. Yet his voice came closer. "I know you're here somewhere! I'm not going to bite, I promise, just come out… I'm alone, I swear! Kronos isn't here, and he won't ever know! Come out!"

I sucked in a breath. How did he know that Kronos was involved?

A footstep in the doorway made me freeze. Ethan's voice was hesitant now, bordering… Bordering denial and fear. "…Bree? Bree, answer me. This isn't funny."

_The Styx it's not,_ I thought, and resisted the urge to laugh again.

"Aw, crud…" His voice had quieted and sounded… Defeated, almost. "How am I supposed to explain this to Hunter…?"

That's when it occurred to me; he was worried. Honestly worried. And I might be socially slow, but I'm not stupid. His tone sounded like he'd just discovered we'd lost the war. I had lost track of how long I'd been gone, and for all the information he and the others had, I could be in a torture cell right now.

"…Ethan?"

Silence. Then a ragged, forced sigh. "Damnit, Bree! Get out here! Don't just disappear like that; it's not freaking funny!"

I wasn't in the mood to apologize, to him or to anyone, but I poked my head out from the chairs to stare. He stood in the doorway, eye a molten jasmine, fist clenched on the doorframe. His hair was an unwashed mess. The broken nose added to his furious look. Even atop the stacked chairs, he was still taller than me. His sword hung from his waist and his armor had been thrown on; obviously, I was late for _something._

I stared, not quite sure what to do. Something told me that I'd be in huge trouble if I told anyone what Kronos had said. And I'd already concluded that telling Ethan wouldn't save me or anyone else; no need risking Kronos's anger. No need risking his hand on Brook or Hunter. Yet this was Ethan; I did not want to lie to him. The truth, I supposed, but not the full truth. He deserved as much information as I could spare.

Before I could open my mouth, though, his hand relaxed and his eye widened. His lips parted slightly, completing a surprised look. No, not surprised – _shocked._ They were very different. Like he'd expected something but wasn't quite ready to _see _it. Then his hand clenched again and fire sprang to life in his eye, but it was no longer directed at me. "You're crying," he spat through his teeth.

I brushed a hand across my cheek, noted the wetness on my fingers, and shrugged. "…I guess so."

"Get down. Right now."

"Yes, sir," I said, and climbed down. So long he didn't demand what had happened, it was okay. And despite the tone, his voice was soothing. Familiar. And the fury was not at me. This was Ethan, my friend, my mentor. I could trust him with anything. Almost anything.

He strode forward, one hand closed over his sword's hilt, eye sharp and focused on my face. Close to me, closer than we usually stood when having a conversation, he stopped and leaned forward. One hand slowly reached up to grab my chin gently.

I pulled back, suddenly uncomfortable. I didn't like anyone that close, Ethan or not, and definitely didn't like my face being touched…

"No, stop," Ethan said, quieter and gentler than he'd been before. "Let me see." His hand brushed my jaw again, and this time I let him tip my head back into the light. With a shock, I realized it was from the window – it was still so bright out. Maybe I hadn't missed much.

Slowly, carefully, Ethan's fingers brushed my cheek. I shuddered. His hands were warm, and their touch stung.

The hard, cold anger returned to his eye. "Who did this?"

I blinked. "What?"

"The mark. On your face. It was Kronos, wasn't it?"

Oh. That's why it'd stung. "Um… I'm not… Not supposed to say anything…"

"That's what_ he_ told you," Ethan growled, and jerked his hand away. He spun on his heel and stomped back towards the door. When he got there, he turned, and paced back towards me. "Did he hit you?"

"…Y-yeah."

Thankfully, he didn't ask why. "Did he do anything else? Threaten you?"

"…So what if he did?" I muttered.

"So he did?"

"Yes. And you. And Brook and Hunter. Please don't make me explain. He'll…"

"He'll what? You're afraid he'll make good on those promises?"

I nodded.

"Don't be. What did he want to you to do, exactly? Why are we being held hostage?"

I swallowed thickly. "Uh…"

"Tell me!" he spat. "You're not going to do anyone any harm, I promise."

I hung my head and sighed. "So you think."

"So I _know._ Tell me what he did to you, because I know you're not crying over the welt on your cheek."

My eyes closed and I considered, for just another moment. Telling Ethan wouldn't help me or anyone. But hey, could it hurt…? Besides, I needed him, I realized. I needed someone to talk to. Just to say it all out loud.

And he wouldn't let it hurt Brook. Not by a long shot.

So I caved. I told him.

oOo

**Nyx: I AM SO SORRY! There is only so far I can push my insomniac brain. Evens in my life have official changed my schedule, so now my night-owl hours (when I write the best) have been added to the late evening, not early morning, so the post times I gave you when this started are almost always going to be wrong.**

**Nic: Did you just admit defeat?**

**Nyx: *scowls* No.**

**Nic: You did too.**

**Nyx: Alright, alright! Thanks to all our readers and reviewers. The poll is currently tied, and we're waiting for a tiebreaker before closing it. The cover will be up this weekend – it was another thing that time is pressing me on. I am sorry. I would explain how busy my days are exactly, and all my projects, but obviously as this is the internet that wouldn't be smart. The cover is taking longer than I expected because I had flattened layers and am having trouble editing exact parts without effecting others. My computer also has a problem with the lasso tool – I cannot hold my mouse down for long without photoshop bugging, and it makes the whole thing infuriating.**

**You know, for those of you who understood that. It's Elements Nine, so I have no channels or tricks up my sleeve. Or adjustment layers, which would have helped so much with the coloring….**

**Nic: I don't think people are here to listen to your photoshop crisis.**

**Nyx: *sighs* right, I apologize. I am still tired. Next chapter!**


	45. Hunters

**NOTE: Something unexpected came up, and I don't know if I'll be home by the designated time, so I decided to post this early. You might hate me for the longer wait once the chapter's over, though... -Nyx**

**DISCLAIMER: We do not own PJatO or HoO – Rick Riordan does.**

oOo

He stared at me silently. The anger had vanished again. There was just sharp attention, the feeling that he was absorbing every word.

Even after I finished, he stared. Fear started up in my stomach again – now I'd spoken, and I'd really put Hunter and Brook in danger. If Kronos found out, there was no _I'll comply _and save them – I'd really, truly put them on the chopping block.

At last his eye cleared and focused on mine. "So he told you to go against your morals, basically?"

I hung my head. "I… No, it's more. All year, he's been teaching me to… To think differently, to see the world in strange ways… All this time, he's been manipulating me. I didn't see it until now, but he _is _trying to change my morals, as you put it."

"And he threatened to hurt us if you didn't do it?"

"If I didn't give him what he wanted," I said. "He also mentioned something about giving me more leash if I complied."

Silence.

"He… I know, I know we've been against the Olympians, but he wants me to be Nico-"

"I got it. Don't repeat it."

I swallowed thickly and decided to wait.

He thought for just a minute, eyes focused on the table. We'd sat down as I explained. Man, I'd have killed to have Hunter and Brook there, but I knew it was dangerous. Dangerous an stupid. My stomach squirmed as I remembered that I'd put them in a dangerous position again.

"…And what were you planning to do about all this?" Ethan asked finally.

"I was willing to do it. To stop… To stop him from hurting you guys. Trying to escape is suicide, and I couldn't even _consider _letting him… I mean, look at Brook…"

"That's it? No escape options? You're…. You're trapped?"

"Locked in a cage," I confirmed, squirming. I didn't like being in cages. Especially cages held by evil Titans.

He closed his eye. "Tell me… Would you consider an escape, would you try, if you had that option? If you weren't trapped?"

Alarm bells went off in my head. He was too interrogative. There was a point he had, something in his mind, that he wasn't telling me. Whether he was working up to or around it, though, I wasn't sure. "In a heartbeat, assuming I could take you all with me."

"So you're planning to escape the first chance you get?"

"Yes. Why, you suddenly figure out how to work magic and get us out of here?"

What he said next, I couldn't hear. It was mumbled and quiet, stressed, pressing on his voice like a heavy foot on a creaky floorboard. It almost seemed to hurt him.

"What?" I asked, leaning forward.

His eye jumped up to meet mine, but it was distant, as if he were afraid to get too close. "I said… I said I've been planning to escape, too. I've been plotting to leave."

oOo

"What…?!"

"Don't yell! Don't yell! Anyone hears, we're dead!" Ethan hissed.

I sighed and forced my voice to lower. The horrors I'd taunted myself with before had been suppressed. "And to think, you told _me _not to consider it, or that you didn't _offer _it when Kyle was alive or-"

"I did!" he spat. "It's not as easy as it seems, you know that. Care to let me explain?"

My eyes darted around. "…Shouldn't we explain it to Hunter and Brook, too?"

"The only reason I haven't told any of you is that you're all part of the Guard, and you're Kronos's favorites. Me, as the founder, I didn't have much of a choice. But, and _especially _since Kronos is threatening you, it was dangerous for you to know. But I think… Maybe, since he's come out and made those threats… It's time to tell all of you."

I snorted. "About time. Everything, this time, not just the partial truth?"

"I've done my best," Ethan said softly. "And don't pretend you haven't tried to lie to me for my sake, too. And I can't tell you everything, seeing as Kronos is already onto you, but I promise I'll do what I can."

"Is it the kind of plan that leaves us alive, or are you going to tell me the only escape is death?"

"Look at me, Bree. How many eyes do you see?"

This was familiar. He always started the major principles of his life with that question. "One."

"Exactly. The other one was given for a fate, a _life,_ not death. Would I tell you or anyone else, myself included, to kill themselves?"

"…No."

"No," he confirmed. "Listen, I want you to go grab Hunter. Kronos is already mad at me. Not for this, but something else – she should be near him. You get her, I'll grab Brook. Meet back here?"

I nodded. "Alright. Wait five minutes after Hunter and I to come back before you get Brook, alright?"

"Do I look stupid, too?"

I stared at him, calculating. My composure had come back. I had taught myself, long before I met Kronos, to try and look confident to all those I met. He insisted on flawlessness; I insisted on a good-enough sort of image. So my fears were hidden now. Still there, still mind-wrecking. The thought of my brother brought on a wave of nausea.

But staring at Ethan, I found that it was manageable. Escape plan or not, it was.

I smirked. "No, not really, only when you're breathing." Then I darted out the door before he could hound me for it.

oOo

The mood was quite solemn, actually.

Once I'd been cheered up out of my pouting state, there really wasn't need for humor. This was, after all, quite a serious business.

"So what are we all here for?" Hunter asked as Brook followed Ethan in. She had, of course, seated herself at the head of the table. "Pep rally?"

Ethan's gaze was flat and sincere. As was his monotone. "No. Kronos threatened Bree today. And us – he wants her to play his pet evil demon, and if she doesn't, he swore he'd do to us what he did to the Hecate kid."

Silence.

After the initial shocked moment, Hunter said, "No, surely he didn't-"

"He did," I cut her off. Her mouth snapped shut and she glared, but I ignored it. "Starting with Brook. He said he's known about our investigation on the dark-haired boy's death since it happened. In specific, he wants me to kill my brother, and continue to reinforce his rule once he's taken Olympus."

Hunter was quiet for a moment. Her eyes closed. We stayed silent, respecting her time to think.

Eventually, her bright golden eyes opened, sharpened like aiming lenses and pinned on me. "You're sure?"

"Positive."

"…Are you okay? There's a mark-"

"Yes, he did that," I said. "I wasn't in the mood to listen."

Brook, quietly, sat next to me and grabbed my right arm in a lopsided hug. She didn't say anything.

"…What did you do?" Hunter asked. Her gaze was unreadable.

"I planned on doing it," I shrugged. "I… I couldn't put my sisters through that."

"It was a hard decision," Ethan cut in. "Point is, he's gone too far. Do we all agree?"

Beside me, Brook nodded, silver eyes wide. I sighed and nodded as well, figuring my answer was a given. Hunter, however, didn't react.

His gaze lingered on her. "…Hunter?"

"He's not what you think he is," she growled. "I won't stand for him threatening anyone, but what you don't understand is that he's not all hate and evil, and so long you're so biased I'm not going to agree with anything. He might be in the wrong, but I don't think you guys know him as accurately as you should."

"Oh, really? Hunter, too far is too far. I don't see how that changes. There's just one line, and he crossed it."

She scowled at him. "Don't tell me what's wrong and right, Ethan."

"Alright, you tell me, then; was it right of him to beat his daughter?"

Beat his… _What?!_

She had fallen silent, frozen, cold gaze locked on him. I saw that face and I knew; it was true. She was furious he'd said anything, she'd love to have us believe it was false, but the answer was scrawled across her face.

Brook made a pained sound and clung tighter.

A cold ball of ice had gathered in my throat. "Hunter…"

"Bree, don't."

"What didn't you say something? How long has this been going on?"

"It's not your business-"

"He's _hurting you,_ Hunter, so you can bet your sorry butt it's my business!" I snapped. "Why didn't you say something?"

She shrugged. "Because you'd get the wrong idea. He'd become the stereotype Disney villain who has no personality; he's just the bad guy, he just needs to be killed, end of story. And that's not the case."

"But…"

"But nothing. It's not… It's not that he doesn't care. He's not neglecting or hateful."

"Seemed hateful to me," Ethan muttered.

"And that's exactly why I said nothing," she growled.

"You know, you still didn't answer my question. Was it right?"

She fell silent.

"I thought not. Even the Kronos you believe he is… Is that the kind of person you want dictating the world? Is that the kind of person you want controlling your siblings? You heard what he told Bree."

"Hunter," Brook whispered. "I… I don't like him, either. I want to go home."

Home. Mount Othrys. Seattle. Everywhere.

Nowhere.

"He abused you and Bree," she continued, voice getting stronger. "I'm not going to forgive that."

Hunter sighed hoarsely and massaged her temples. "Fine! Fine! He's hit me! He's talked about some pretty dark stuff! He tortured people in his basement! He killed the Hecate kid! He's a control freak, he's obviously been leading Bree down a path she doesn't want to follow, he can be sadistic, he's bent on revenge, and he hardly cares about people the way a human would! There! Are you happy now?!"

"Ssh," Ethan muttered.

"And you know what?" she went on, glaring. "What are you going to do about it? Pray tell, wise one. Show me your expert idea on how to get out of this fine mess, because if you don't, we're all going to die or become part of the universe's destruction. Or murder people. Show me your miracle worker. You don't got one, do you? So what are you going to do? Don't tell me you plan on… On…"

She trailed off. Ethan had reached into his jacket. From this angle, I couldn't see what he was drawing out, but from the look on her face it might have been something along the lines of a nuclear bomb.

He glanced away from his pocket and glanced at her. "You were saying?"

"…That you can't just join Olympus's forces. They're just as bad," she finished, as if in a daze.

"What is it?" I asked, leaning forward. Of course they ignored me.

"I know," he said. "I know. Wasn't planning on it. But we can't leave it to him, either."

She paled further. "You can't be serious. This is just as bad as him telling Bree to kill her brother."

"You can't kill a Titan, Hunter, no matter how hard you try. And we're desperate." He set the object from his jacket on the table in front of him.

My breath stopped short. Everyone said that demigods avoided modern-day weapons, but…

But there it was. The gun. The safety was on, and it looked like you could fire it with just one hand if needed. That's about all I can tell you, because my knowledge of firearms was never that great.

Brook, however, perked up and reached out one hand. Before anyone could stop her, she was handling it, testing its weight and its grip. "Hm. Where'd you find this, Ethan?"

"I've had it for a… For a while."

"You're hiding something," Hunter growled stiffly.

"If you're that interested, that is the gun my father used to shoot himself. I kept it for sentimental reasons."

"You, sentimental?" Brook muttered, saying nothing else on the topic and handing the gun back. He took it.

"We can't do that, though," Hunter sighed. "It's wrong."

"Hunter, we can't just plan an escape. Not only is it impossible, but it'd just be a recreation of us abandoning Brianna," he said. "I've thought about this over and over. We can't… We're the only ones who have a chance of stopping him. So we should pretend everything's okay, run off, and let the world suffer when he takes over?"

"You're talking about shooting my father-"

"I'm talking about shooting the Titan who tortured people, threatened others, beat some, and plans to burn the world to ashes. I'm talking about saving six-point-five billion lives. I… I never meant… For it to hurt you. But it was inevitable. I think… It's probably best I explain now rather than just randomly fire without you knowing."

She glared at him. "He's not just that Titan, Ethan."

"That's what he will be when he gets Olympus. When he wants something, he'll go to lengths to get it. Hence the reason we're all in this room now," Brook pointed out. "And once he gets Olympus… What he wants from then on out is to fulfill his revenge. And I don't want to see that happen."

"There's another way-"

"Hunter," I said softly. "I don't want to shoot him, either."

"Really?" she muttered.

"I don't want to shoot anyone, Titan or demigod or immortal or human. But Ethan's right. We don't have a choice."

"He planned to put you in a torture chamber," Brook said. "You know, just pointing that out."

"He plans on killing humans and blotting out the sun and making the world his personal warzone," Ethan added. "Hunter, I don't… We're not trying to…"

She was silent. Her eyes had closed again and she was deathly still, posed with her feet on the table, not a sound to be heard.

I don't know how long we sat there. But eventually she opened her eyes and said bluntly, "You know, the other day, he told me what he has planned for Percy Jackson once he takes over. You're… You're right. He's not going to fix this world."

"He's not going to restore balance," Ethan reworded, smiling at the pun quietly. "And that's what we all came here to fight for, isn't it?"

"There was _also _the man that gave me and my siblings food and shelter, but yeah, there's that, too," Hunter spat bitterly. "But the last thing I want to see is that scythe turned on the world. He has it in him. I've seen it. Mind you, it's not the only thought that ever crosses his mind, but… I know him better than you guys do. Don't push me."

"We wouldn't dream of it," Brook whispered, smiling at her.

Hunter huffed and turned back to the gun. "So, Chihuahua. What's the weapon do?"

He sighed and sat down, holding the gun in one hand and then the next. "…I'm afraid to tell you."

"Really? After all this?"

"Yes. Because if he finds out, if he tries to get the information out of one of you…."

"You'd feel guilty as Tartarus," she summed up.

He flinched. "Yeah."

"Yet we already know too much, so you might as well tell us everything."

He sighed and held out the gun again, displaying its long side, the sleek barrel. His finger brushed the trigger lightly. "…I'll explain part of it. Need-to-know, okay?"

"It seems fair," Brook said gently. She glanced at Hunter and I. "Agreed?"

"Agreed," we mumbled. It was almost like old times.

Ethan sighed and clicked off the safety. "This was a last resort. We were driven to do it because I saw him hit you, Hunter, and the things he did, and Herald… Herald, being Herald, knows a lot about the outside world. He cares for it. And the thing I gave my eye for is the chance to save this world, so damn me if I help him destroy it." He chuckled dryly. "This gun might not work. But here's what it is;

"Since we can't let the Olympians win, either, it'll have to be done after Olympus has fallen but before Kronos leaves Luke's body behind and becomes practically untouchable. Granted, Luke is hard enough to kill anyway, but this is our best shot. Hopefully, Kronos will get rid of Olympus, and then we'll get rid of Kronos, and go from there. Make sense?"

"Yes," Hunter said for us. She was our spokesperson again, and not just during a formal occasion. A small, warm, hopeful flutter started in my stomach.

"So that's the plan. What else you need to know is… And I know you won't like it, but the rest of what you've got to know is what to do in case I'm dead by the time our chance arises."

"You won't be," Brook murmured. "We won't let you."

He gave her a sad smile. "Didn't we all promise Kyle we wouldn't let him die before we finished Black Butler? You guys have to promise me you'll follow through if I don't make it, alright? Not that I'll live, but that the plan will."

"We swear," Hunter said solemnly, and shuddered. I nodded in agreement, trying to imagine a world without Ethan in it. It didn't seem possible.

He turned back to the gun. "Anyway, I keep it in its holster inside my jacket. Keeps it hidden, keeps it close. What you do is click off the safety…." He demonstrated by clicking it a few times. "Then you aim. Point the barrel at your target. The bullet is enchanted to hone in on its target, but there are no promises. Then you just…" He shrugged. "Pull the trigger. The bullet will do the rest."

"The bullet's magic?" Brook asked, intrigued.

"Yeah. Took Herald a while to get all the ingredients. I can't tell you exactly how he made it work, but it's made for its job."

"You said it might not work?" Hunter reminded him.

"Well, yeah. A magic bullet with a designated target point and special, rare purpose isn't easy to piece together. It could blow up or be a dud or just be a regular, human bullet. It could fail to hone in or to even fire. I don't know. That's the biggest risk."

He flicked the safety on and sheathed the gun, hiding it in his jacket. Without realizing I had tensed, I relaxed, glad it was out of sight. It made me jittery.

In a good way, though.

We had a weapon. We had a chance. I didn't have to be a demonic killer. Brook and Hunter had an escape. The world wouldn't fall to Kronos's visions once the horrible Olympians were overthrown. It could solve everything, that one little bullet and its designated barrel. Ethan zipped up his jacket, and I thought he looked quite proud.

I flashed back on that night we'd washed ashore on Long Island. He'd talked about being nameless and making a true difference, fighting for what was right, explained the deal he'd made with his mother. A small price, he'd said, an eye for the world. He'd talked about how he wanted to make good on that deal. And then; _Do me another favor, and don't forget what I said tonight, either. I don't think I'll ever be so calm as to rethink my way through it again. Remind me from time to time. _

His past, losing his eye, running in the Labyrinth – it didn't seem to bother him much. At least, not anymore. He was never one to linger in his past. He cared nothing about the small Japanese blood he must've had – his last name, the slight curve to his remaining eye, despite his skin and height – or get wildly upset with his father's death or become angry with his mother. And as that gun proved, he gave the present and future everything he had.

Staring at him, I smiled, knowing I'd never have to remind him about what he'd said. He wasn't going to forget.

"One other thing," he said. "While I'm writing my will, my sword… It's name is Savior. If I die, take it. It has a bigger fate than I do, I'm sure of it. Give it to another demigod. It's not bound to me by any enchantments; it'll be safe."

Hunter sighed and nodded. "Right. Will never do, because we're all going to make it."

"Oh hell we will," he said, and a wicked smile crossed his face. The wild light of a fight danced in his eye as he patted his jacket where the gun was hidden.

I glanced around the table one more time. There was Hunter's hot glare, no longer at us but at an unseen foe. Brook, quiet, determined, resourceful. Me, finally shaking off Kronos's warnings and threats and demon-talk. It felt good to be free of it, like someone had removed a drenched rag from my face, allowing me to breathe at last. With them and that gun, I didn't need the demon. I could be Bree None-Given, not the freak, not the not-really-a-demigod, not the daughter of Pluto or sister of Nico. Then there was Ethan, a fierce light in his eye, hard as rock and totally unmovable. He'd been fighting for this all his life.

Now, we had a fighting chance. That's more than any demigod has ever needed.

oOo

**Nyx: Yay! We are finally seeing some unity between them, if it's not complete. They're still a little mad with one another, but they're cooperating. How excited are you to know Ethan's plan? Or do you hate him for it? Let us know!**

**Nic: One other question, because we just love you guys so much… how excited would you get if we told you the name of the next chapter was named "The Raven"?**


	46. The Raven

**DISCLAIMER: We do not own PJatO! Rick Riordan does! And that rocks, because he put Nico and Ethan in it! Yay!**

oOo

"Do you see him?"

Hunter and Ethan, who were on their toes in an effort to see beyond the crowd, shook their heads. "Naw," he said. "He'll be here soon, though."

Besides us, the chariot jostled as its skeletal steeds expressed their impatience. Confusion radiated from them – why had they been called if all I needed them to do was stand still? Above, rippling and snapping, was Kronos's massive purple flag. The black scythe on it seemed to glint as his did. A cold wind washed over us all – past us, the Guard, the chariot, over the gathered army of demigods. We were small, the minority, compared to the legion of monsters already out on the front. Behind us were our numbers in demons, too – the last of them. Kronos had gone off for one last 'errand' before moving out. The armies were shifting nervously and talking to one another. Small things about the weather and lack of sleep and how New York's buildings gleamed, day-to-day things, the things they'd miss if they didn't come back.

Nick sighed heavily and removed his helmet, pulling his hair from his eyes so when he put it back on it wouldn't lock it in his face. "He's probably gone to make sure Mount Othrys is holding. Paranoid, if you ask me. The Romans are collapsing as we speak."

"Romans?" Herald echoed, confused.

Nick glanced at him. "Demigods. I said demigods. The Greeks have some stationed there."

"You know what? I don't care," Herald muttered and turned away. I'm not sure how Nick knew of both Roman and Greek demigods when Herald, also part of the Guard, didn't, but I wasn't bothered to ask.

I turned around to ask Ethan if Kronos had said he'd be long, because the horses were hungry and eyeing Hunter in a very longing way, but he wasn't there. I frowned and looked around – ah, there, retreated behind the chariot and talking to another random demigod at the front. I didn't hear what they said. They made a point to keep their voices low and seemed pretty concentrated.

I glanced at Brook. "What's he doing?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

Herald, who'd heard us, turned his gaze to Ethan and waved. "Yo yo, Balance! Get over here!"

"Balance?" Hunter muttered.

Ethan came jogging up, as if nothing had happened. "Sorry. Checking on something."

"I could see that," Hunter grumbled. Then her gaze sharpened. "Your jacket's open."

"Oh, right." He zipped it up. "Be bad to lose that, wouldn't it?"

Herald glanced between us. "…Did you tell them, or…?"

"The basics," Ethan confirmed, and moved to his place next to the chariot. I took up my accustomed place on his left. Hunter sighed an instead of heading to the chariot's other side like she always did stood next to me. Brook was on her other side. Herald, knowing he should go join Nick as well but not wanting to, lingered behind us.

He was scowling at Ethan. "You crazy, dog? They're too close to Vanilla."

"We're cool," Hunter snapped at him. "You can trust us."

"Says his daughter," Herald snarled.

"We have our reasons, and that's all you need to know," Brook said simply. "We're in, alright? All of us. All _four _of us, so I suggest you watch who you start yelling at."

"Even the demon girl?"

"It's Bree," Ethan snapped, "and yes. All four of us. If you've got a problem, you can take the gun, and we'll pretend we knew nothing about it."

Herald cast us one more glance, eyes raking down our rank. But it wasn't hostile. Just observing. Something warm and satisfied flashed in his dark eyes. He nodded, walked past, and took his place across the chariot. The horses not-so-playfully snapped at him as he went.

I glanced at Hunter, but she made no move to follow. She caught my glance and snorted, "I wouldn't move even if Dad told me to. I know who I trust to fight beside."

A strange mix of emotions swirled through me – the sharp realization that she'd still called him 'Dad', the warm relief that she'd just made a point of saying she still entrusted me with her life, and the soothing idea that she was there to help me, too. On my other side, I felt more than saw Ethan smile.

There was a link between us now. I liked it. And couldn't wait to see how it worked in action.

The time before the fight was always the worst, but today, I hardly felt anything at all. My usual worry for them was gone. The bond I felt was strong, and I had lost all lack of confidence. Even the idea of Kronos showing up or turning on us didn't make my heart race or chest tighten or fear invade my mind. All because of the gun Ethan had in his jacket.

Thinking back on it, I wondered why I'd felt so defeated. Why had I given in? Of course, there was always a way to stand up for yourself. I'd never failed to find it before.

I sighed and chided myself. I knew very well why my usual spite had abandoned me. He'd had Hunter and Brook and Ethan at his fingertips.

That is what'd made me snap. That was where I was weak. That was why I was letting myself turn against all my morals, why I let Kronos take over.

But I didn't have to worry about it now. Adrenaline was already starting to seep into my blood. The shadows were gathering – the sky was dark today; the sun had retreated behind clouds just minutes ago and showed no sign of reappearing. With them behind me and a deadly weapon in Ethan's hands, with my sisters at my side, with a beautifully woven, bloody dance on the horizon, I didn't have to think about any of it.

Willing myself to get pumped up, I drew my iPod and clicked on a specific song. The drums set the limit for my pulse and the changes in chords made my fingers twitch and Întuneric hum and the lyrics… Well, they made me laugh.

_We are not blind, we know the truth._

_Still we don't stand; still we don't chose._

_We'd rather stay so comfortable, stuck in our world under control._

_We may not pull the trigger but we,_

_Stand by and watch and pretend not to see._

_Silence is worse than evil done;_

_What in the world have we become?_

"He's coming," I heard Hunter warn. Something was thumping on the ground next to my foot. I looked down – Ethan was tapping to the beat.

_Can't you see that_

_This is war! So pick your side;_

_It's time to move, not time to hi-ide!_

_Don't let lies make up your mind!_

'_Cause can't you see…_

_We're running out of time!_

After another minute, Brook and Ethan stood straighter (Hunter was already stiff as a rod). I took the hint and hastily put the iPod away. Sure enough, as soon as I was at attention with Întuneric's tip in the ground before me, Kronos came into view from the edge of the crowd. Another, smaller figure in armor was behind him. We waited as he stalked forward. Each step, he passed another demigod standing in rank, and that said demigod shut up and stood at attention. One by one, the armies quieted.

He came to a stop before us four. His narrowed, cold gaze made a hard rock form in my stomach. The kind of rock you wish you could take and throw at someone. His eyes slid across our rank, noting Hunter's presence. Then he motioned for his friend to step forward.

She was maybe my height, a little taller, with dirty blond hair. Icy eyes glinted from beneath her helm. A celestial bronze sword glimmered in her hands, and her armor was perfect, not a size too big and every piece exactly in place. A purple jacket with a matching black scythe design was amazingly unwrinkled beneath it. Her posture was without flaw.

Flawless, I remembered, and hoped I looked frightening.

Kronos, eyes still half-closed and content, rumbled, "This is Taylor, daughter of Deimos. She is your new Guard member. Taylor, you take orders from Hunter, and above her, me. Given your skills, I expect you to make quite a difference up here. Hunter, use her well."

Hunter dipped her head, a sign of respect and recognition. I did a double take – that was pride shining in her eyes. Not fear, not hate, not dread. Pride. And it wasn't over her authority.

I dimly recalled her saying there was more to Kronos than his problems. Albeit major problems, but not the whole of him. Whatever she saw in him now, she deeply respected, and liked being the daughter of such a man.

A bitter taste filled my mouth. I bit my tongue and looked away.

"Taylor, go stand next to Herald. Do as you're told, and report anything of interest. That's all you need to know." She nodded, gazed at us for a moment more, then disappeared around the chariot.

Kronos's gaze snapped back to us. I almost jumped – his eyes were wide open and golden eyes very, very hot. He was furious. "You four," he said calmly, "will see me after the fight is over. I have some words for Ethan, Bree, and my daughter."

Then he turned, mounted his chariot, and fit on his helm as if nothing had happened.

I glanced up at Ethan, gauging his reaction. His jaw was set tight and his gaze smoldered ahead.

Hunter saw my glance and sighed. "Focus on the task at hand. Olympus first, then Kronos. Don't forget to prioritize. Just because we're… We're not on their side, either. We're on our own."

"About time, too," I muttered.

She stared at me quizzically for a moment, then nodded. "I guess it is."

oOo

The dance had grown desperate.

It was no longer just a dance. Oh, sure, any fight felt alive, a living, breathing thing. You could feel it in the way contempt for an enemy who'd landed a strike build in your chest, when you heard its earth-shattering roar, when at your hand, the same hands you'd used to hold people you loved and make your bed every day and draw pictures in kindergarten, another human (or half-human) died and the small candle, the miracle of breath, that fragile thing called life, faded away into something cold and bloody.

Yes, there was always something alive there.

But this was different. The pulse was faster and the claws were sharper and everything had doubled its speed. Like panicked death throes, like the fury beneath had finally broken loose, like a storm raging through us all. The dance had become hungry and helpless, hurdling towards its end.

And so fast it went.

I whirled around, snarling, daring the next one to step forward. Întuneric hummed in my hands, twirling exactly every way I needed it to, sharp as it'd been the day it was made. Hungry, that's what we were. Ha! Let someone else step forward, let the dance start again. Else I would start it on my own and attack someone without being provoked. To stand still, to be idle, was to die. But to move, to play with this dance and all its turns and all its dark motives, was to live. To truly live.

But there was no one there. Just the Guard. Behind me was Kronos's chariot, and to the side were the Hyperboreans that followed him around, basically the monster version of the Guard. And beyond them, our armies. They sneered and held weapons in the air, screeching, begging for more. But there were no more enemies.

I turned back to the front, and lo and behold, there stood the Empire State building. I was perched on the closer side of the street's yellow lines. The city looming above, even the building to Olympus itself, looked forlorn and anything but spiteful. Before us, some daring to step past the chariot and hold back the army there, were enemy demigods. Some were in uniform – silver not unlike Brook's outfit. They all held bows, or what had once been – several were snapped in half, and lacking arrows. The wild centaurs had vanished. Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, and Thalia Grace – all I had been trained to recognize – stood at their head. Among them lay fallen comrades. Motionless bodies that tasted strongly of death. The release of energy still burned in my throat, strong as magic, not just a sense. Maybe that's what it was. I had no clue – I had never experimented with the powers I had over the dead, knowing I was best at shadows, and honestly didn't care.

In the center, the only thing cutting us off from Percy and the building, was a centaur. Not the wild kind – he had white, groomed fur and a scruffy brown beard. Liquid chocolate eyes smoldered. His bow was drawn, arrow pointed between Kronos's eyes.

"Step aside, little son," Kronos growled. His voice rumbled like an earthquake in my chest. Beside me, Taylor – we had mixed up our order in the fight – jeered and spat. The monsters behind us followed that example. Hunter smiled, not-so-patiently waiting for things to start again.

The beating in my chest, the sharp state of mind of a fight, never left my mind. The tension screamed of things left unfinished.

"I'm afraid not," the centaur said in the exact same calm, icy tone that Kronos took when he was most dangerous. The resemblance there rang like a bell in my ears.

Then I realized that Kronos had called this horse his _son._ Chiron, I recalled, trainer of Olympus's demigods. Their teacher but never their leader. Technically, Hunter's half-brother.

Queen Sess howled, for her a loud, explosive hissing noise, and lunged. The arrow seemed to spring into existence in her face – she melted into golden dust, armor clattering on the floor.

I glanced beyond her. I couldn't see details, but a giant ice cube was lying down the street. I squinted – there, inside, I saw the hollow head of our Lydian drakon.

I yanked my gaze away and turned back to the centaur. A small thrill lit in my chest when I saw he was out of arrows.

This little game was almost over. My dance would start again.

Kronos stepped off his chariot and took a daring stride forward, sneering at Chiron's sword. "You're a teacher. Not a hero."

"Luke was a hero," the centaur shot back calmly. "He was a good one, until _you _corrupted him."

Luke? Kronos's host?

"FOOL!"

Beneath my feet, the ground seemed to shake. My throat closed in on itself, and my hands clenched on Întuneric. Hunter hissed.

"You filled his head with empty promises!" Kronos shrieked. That loud, modern dialect he took when he was on edge. When he was breaking. When I had defied him. "You said the gods cared about me!"

Ice closed in on my throat. Of all things, it had been the last I expected.

"Me," Chiron whispered. Hope dared to enter his eyes for the first time. "You said _me."_

Kronos blinked, for a moment shocked. Then the centaur attacked.

So fast I never saw it, just a golden blur, Kronos dodged. The city shuddered again and I swear I went deaf as the Titan screamed, "_BACK!"_

There was a blinding white flash, not unlike what I'd seen on the Williamsburg bridge. The street trembled dangerously. The Chiron was shoved back through the air. There was a sickening crunch as he hit the building. Then a loud sound as part of the wall collapsed on top of the centaur, not a trace of white fur left to be seen.

Then there was laughter.

Behind us, the rumbling, deep, mangled sound of amused monsters. The three demigods, as if we weren't there, ran to the pile. Percy and Thalia began to lug bricks aside.

Then a storm came at us. Her blonde hair was a mess, her snarl sharp as lightning, thunder rolling in her eyes. "YOU!" Kronos sneered back at her. "To think that I… That I thought-"

A knife sprang to life in her hands. Percy said something, but she ignored him and charged. There was a bright flash as the dagger reflected light into my eyes.

When it faded, she was almost on top of him. Kronos's smug smile had faded. He made no move to defend himself as she plunged her knife into his collar bone. Beside me, Hunter stiffened.

The blade bounced aside like she'd thrown it against concrete. Then Kronos's scythe swung out, slicing the air – Percy had yanked her back, whispering soothing words as she screamed and fought.

"So much spirit," Kronos mused. Laughter built in his chest. Tension built in mine – somewhere, the shadows moved, unnaturally. Alarm shot through my system. I choked and stumbled – Ethan's hand stopped me from collapsing. "I can see why Luke wanted to spare you. Unfortunately, that won't be possible."

The shadows twisted again. I felt them, way down the street, shifting and bending. My connection to them was twisted the wrong way, like someone had grabbed my wrist (a wrist inside my chest, apparently) and twisted it so sharply it snapped and continued to pull at my arm. "Ethan-" I gasped.

"_Arroooooooo!"_

Was that… A dog?

Then, suddenly, without warning, the shadows stopped. They fell limp to their usual places. If it weren't for their excited humming, for the tremble of Întuneric, I'd have said they were dead.

Then, there was the clink and clatter of moving armor and the shuffle of footsteps. Slowly, bit by bit, an aisle cleared through our ranks down Fifth Avenue, the opposite direction than the frozen drakon. I squinted. Way down there, a hulking form in the street, was a massive dog.

The Olympian hellhound. I wondered what good she'd do them, just one monster.

Then Percy called out. "Nico?"

My eyes landed on a small silhouette standing next to her, black armor visible even from here. A heavy rock landed in my stomach.

"_ROWWF!"_ the dog barked happily, and bounded down the street to stand next to Percy. The figure in black followed her at a leisure pace, silent as death.

I glanced back at Kronos, heart pounding like crazy. No. No. This was supposed to happen later. Nico was supposed to be neutral. And by the time Kronos turned on him and the Underworld, Ethan would have shot him and we wouldn't have to worry about it. I was supposed to be free of this choice. I wasn't supposed to be forced into choosing between what humanity I had left and my family…

Then, as if I'd merely asked him if he had finished eating dinner, Kronos shook his head. His lips moved, mouthing the words, "Not yet."

He didn't explain, not in front of everyone. But the message was clear. I wasn't to attack until he gave the order.

Of course. I was his, not my own. I belonged to him.

When I turned back, Nico had almost made it to us. I couldn't see his face or his hair for the skull-designed helm – indicating his alliance – nor did he have his sword drawn. But his posture was enough. He stood straight and had his shoulders back, but still seemed to be stalking, somewhat like a cat. He had worn, for who knows what reason, his black armor over a thick aviator's jacket that was far too big for him. Black jeans and heavy dark combat boots made no sound, not a brush or a thud. His armor did not clank. A gleaming silver chain served as a belt. Attached to it was midnight sheath with a black hilt, sporting a slightly discolored – dark purple, dark blue, I was not sure – skull charm. Skin two shades less pale than my own showed through at his neck and his slender artist's hands. His build was narrow and not too tall but not short, hard to tell if he was average height, not unlike my own. Black, intense eyes glinted coldly as he prowled closer.

The strong scent of death, that sickly sweet smell that others said was thick, bitter, and suffocating, laid itself thickly across my tongue. Energy, like that of what I'd felt from fading lives before, crackled in the air, layered in with shadows.

He stopped at the edge of the Guard, closer to the building than our armies, and grinned through his faceguard. White teeth gleamed like sharpened bones, but for the helmet, I couldn't see much else. Nevertheless, the sight made my stomach churn.

Then he spoke, voice like freezing, flowing water. "Got your message. Is it too late to join the party?"

"Son of Hades," Kronos growled before Percy could answer. He spat on the ground at his feet. Nico's eyes landed, cold and forever lost in rapid, sharp thoughts, on the pavement where it landed. There was no telling what was on his mind. How do you predict the ways of a madman?

Though he didn't seem very crazy to me. Crazy people weren't so collected. Intimidating, sure, but not like this. Not like….

Not like Stygian iron.

"Do you love death so much you wish to experience it?" Kronos sneered.

"Your death," Nico said calmly, not mad like Chiron had been but just calm, "would be great for me."

"I'm immortal, you fool!" Kronos growled, edging on a roar. "I have escaped Tartarus. You have no business here, and no chance to live."

_That's right,_ I remembered dully. _Pluto and his children were never considered Olympians or demigods._

Even if I'd been a true half-blood, I'd still have been a monster.

A cold scraping sound echoed down the street as Nico drew his sword. It was wickedly sharp, double-edged, and black as Întuneric. Sure enough, though straight, the demon sword was jagged. My own blade seemed to growl, vibrating violently in my hands.

Nico turned his smile to Kronos. "I don't agree."

The shadows twisted again, more violently than they had before. I gasped and squeezed my eyes shut, but Ethan didn't reach out to help – the ground began to shake and rumble, worse than Întuneric, rocking beneath our feet like a car in a wreck. The shadows growled and snarled, twisting and turning, emerging, leaping into existence and snarling like wild cats.

A deafening crack split the air. Monsters screamed.

I forced my eyes open and yelled. The ground was breaking, cracking, great crevices starting in the street and working their way up buildings, gaping gashes in the city landscape as if a large demon had shredded it. Some monsters fell in – and other things crawled out.

Dead things. Skeletons. Thousands and thousands of them, rivaling our numbers. Kronos yelled for us to stand our ground. White bones gleamed with unnatural light. Above, the sky had darkened with clouds, sheltering them from the bleaching sun. The clatter of jaws and pointy joints and the roar of thoughts invading my mind.

They were cold and uncaring, didn't even acknowledge me, like I wasn't there. They pressed in close and made it hard to breathe, sensations of new sights and strange sounds and a single task repeating overwhelming me. This time, I did stumble, and Hunter grabbed my arm to keep me up.

Then, like a Halcyon calming the seas, a large, cold conscious came into existence. It was looming and sturdy as a mountain, cold as Stygian iron. The storm of thoughts died and fell silent, listening, almost joining themselves to this newcomer's mind. This one, however, knew I was there.

The strong, hot taste of hate filled my mouth. My legs shook.

There was only one thing this could be.

The ground rumbled once more, in the distance down the street where Nico had come from. The earth split open again. I watched, feeling battered and bruised from the assaults of magic and mind, as shadows crawled out.

They seemed alive. Yes, living shadows, shaped like horses. They erupted out of the pit like something horrible was on their heels. They pulled a black chariot, decorated with obsidian and gold. In it stood three people. Two were women – one in a colorful dress and with dark hair and eyes like black knives. The other looked older with hair of honey and straw and a dress to match her nicely tanned skin. They were twelve feet tall, too tall to be human.

The other was a man. Black eyes stormed and raged like a frightened, intelligent animal. A black beard was combed and flat. The top of his head was bald, the rest ringed with long, dark locks. On that pale, bald head was the strangest hat I'd ever seen. It twisted and writhed like a dying animal, like a vampire caught in sunlight. One moment it was a laurel and then a skull helm like Nico's and then a fedora. It would've been funny if, for who knows what reason, the shapes reminded me of what I'd done. Fear shot up my throat. I remembered how I'd put my sisters in danger, how I'd come so close to falling to a demon's fate, and how it was all still possible….

That helm. I knew it. The Helm of Darkness. Kronos had told me of its power to install fear. It worked well. It made me want to go hide somewhere, anywhere, even the room where I'd found our dark-haired friend, and wait to die.

A large, wicked, double-edged Stygian iron sword ringed with silver leveled at us, point glistening with menace like his dark eyes. A blood-red cloak draped calmly over dark armor. His hands were slightly thicker than his son's but the same; not the hands of a warrior, but a gentle artist. By the way he held his sword, he knew his art well.

Pluto, Lord of the Dead.

My father had come to kill us.

oOo

**Nyx: Hope you like it! I think I did better on that last half than I did on my other three chapters this week, huh? Hopefully you've gotten a lot out of it, though, because a lot is happening.**

**Nic: I suggested that, since we are near the climax, we start posting less often.**

**Nyx: I told her no. In fact, if I had the time, I would be writing more often simply for the advantage of having the reader be able to read through it without a week-long break, or even a day's break. We will continue to post three every Saturday, but at different times, until this is over. Once it is, there will be a break. My last update will be on a Saturday (duh), which will contain the epilogue, no matter how many chapters precede it. Next Saturday, I will post nothing but the prologue for the next book. And Friday, I will post chapter one. Monday, chapter two. Wednesday, chapter three. Friday, chapter four. Get it?**

**Nic: We'll give it a shot and see how we like it. It should help Nyx's sleep schedule and, hopefully, up the views updating so often. If it doesn't work, we'll let you know.**

**Nyx: The cover WILL be up by Wednesday at the latest. And I know this is a few hours late – one, I might have lied about the times a bit for the sake of covering up my time zone. Two, I just got back now and couldn't have posted on time even if I wanted to. I apologize.**

**Nic: Still waiting on the tie breaker for the poll. You can visit our profile to see upcoming stories, the poll, and a couple other random things. Thanks to all who read and review!**

**Nyx: With that, we will see you next week. Oh, and for those who care, SEA OF MONSTERS COMES OUT AUGUST 13****th****! In digital 3D! It looks a lot more like the books than Lightning Thief, save Grover not being kidnapped by the Cyclops. Oh, and Ethan, who shouldn't be in until book four and for some reason is being played by a thick-set 40-year-old Vietnamese man…**

**Nic: *scarier than Kronos* **_**PLAYED BY WHO?!**_

**Nyx: *hides* Ahaha….. See you next week! ….If I'm still alive….!**

12


	47. Bones

**DISCLAIMER: We do not own PJatO or HoO. Rick Riordan does. A few songs have been mentioned in here, too – **_**Running Out of Time**_** by Barlow Girl and **_**If Today was Your Last Day **_**by Nickelback.**

**Weird update time will be explained in the next chapter.**

oOo

Unlike Nico, his cold smile was revealed by his lack of helm, a plane of white as vast and unforgiving as the arctic tundra. "Hello, father. You're looking… young."

Hunter shuddered and snarled. With a jolt, I realized that my dad was actually her half-brother. This crazy, violent madman and his son that I'd never in my life associated with her before. She was as closely related to them as I was.

The image just didn't click.

"Hades," Kronos rumbled. A rippling shudder passed through the earth, a calm, collected threat compared to the rage of the shadows and cracks. "I hope you and the ladies have come to pledge you allegiance."

"I'm afraid not," Hades sighed, tongue slick as poisonous centaur blood. "My son here convinced me that perhaps I should prioritize my list of enemies. As much as I dislike certain _upstart _demigods, it would not do for Olympus to fall." His head cocked to one side, eyes wide, mouth slightly parted. I felt the shape of his shadow upon the scarred ground change. Like a cold, growling, hateful breeze. I shuddered. "I would miss bickering with my siblings. And if there is one thing that we agree on – it is that you were a TERRIBLE father."

So much hate, blistering anger, roiling shadows and lit dynamite thrust into that one word, shot through that small hole like a bullet from a gun. The rest of his words were calm and collected. Smooth scales hiding fangs and venom, a pretty package concealing a bomb.

Beside me, Hunter growled louder.

The golden-haired goddess behind Pluto sighed heavily. "True. No appreciation of agriculture."

"Mother!" the raven-haired one yelped, clearly remembering that Kronos happened to be the Titan of farming as well. Nothing grew a plant better than the hands of time.

Hades's sharp rumble – was he in Greek or Roman form? I couldn't tell – cut them off. His sword jutted out further. "Now fight me! For today, the House of Hades will be called the saviors of Olympus."

He sounded so sure.

Yet, the very ruler of time spat back, "I don't have time for this."

The butt of his scythe slammed into the ground, breaking the concrete. Strangely, this time, I felt nothing. Stealthy cracks, like slithering snakes, slid out from beneath and began a wide circle…

I cried out and leapt forward, glancing behind me as one ran under my heels and, gaining speed, shot off around the Empire State Building. Nico hissed and leapt backwards out of its way. The shadows snarled and growled in defiance. They caused more ruckus than this small, peaceful little crevice.

I glanced around. It had surrounded the building, closing me, Kronos, Ethan, Hunter, Brook, and his Hyperboreans inside with the doors and Percy, Thalia, and Annabeth. The armies, including Hades and Nico's ensemble, and the rest of the Guard had been cut off.

Then the air shimmered. Just outside the circle, lying pressed against the next building, a sleeping mortal woman stirred. Cars snarled and roared, leaping into action where they'd been pushed onto the curbs. Drivers jumped to consciousness with fierce light in their eyes, like they could see this war of worlds. Sirens began to wail, brilliant lights burst into existence, and things began to _move _– people, dogs, things, a swarm of things, the heartbeat of the city hungrily taking hold once more. Before my eyes, in a matter of seconds, the city that never sleeps was brought to life once more. Full, noisy, bustling, blinding, sky-hiding life.

Except inside our circle, the Empire State Building.

He'd collapsed the borders. The shadows snarled again, this time moving in me, unsheathing claws and drawing themselves back in preparation to make a blow. We had our target cornered – the rest did not matter – ha, we knew very well what that meant.

This was almost over.

A furious cry split the sky, slicing through the noise of the city – which was now panicking, running from whatever they saw through the Mist – as if it were made of butter. The shadows wrenched again, leaving a sour taste in my mouth, as the living-shadow-horses burst into action and charged at our barrier at full speed. The chariot thundered along behind, Hades perched in it with sword drawn, his two friends clinging on for dear immortal life.

The barrier held. Kronos watched with amusement, Ethan with a stony face, Hunter with wonder, Brook with fear, as the Lord of the Dead crashed into the invisible wall. The chariot shattered, dumping him and his posse onto the ground. His battle cry ended abruptly.

Like a coin tossed into the air, there wasn't a moment of stillness. He leapt off the ground as if it were a trampoline and, cursing, flung shadows at the wall. I jumped as I felt the energy fly – the bolt was the size of the broken chariot, and so fast…

A solid thud echoed in my chest as the blast died against the barrier. The magic swirled in my mind – a taste like burnt rubber filled my mouth, tainted by venom, the taste of hate. Energy buzzed in every cell. Hostile energy, radiation, the remnants of the blast.

I stared, shocked, as cold obsidian eyes met mine. There was where the hate lived. And knowledge, terrifying knowledge. Forget trying to hide who I was – my father knew, and he wouldn't have hesitated to put a knife through my chest. I was sure.

Then he wrenched his hateful eyes away and screamed to his armies, "ATTACK!"

Forget the humans bursting into action. You'd think the unfamiliar rush of a city would stand out more – it didn't. The familiar beat, the strong pulse, the scent of blood, was so familiar and much more obvious. The humans' chaos was nothing compared to this. I felt Hunter tense and Ethan gasp and Brook growl – they thought so, too.

Fifth Avenue burst into action like fireworks. The evil glint of weapons in a hidden noon-day sun exploded into existence, the roars and screams and other horrible sounds just a moment behind, the scents of sweat and blood and death suddenly a lot stronger. A strong predator, feared and loved, muscles rippling beneath a smooth glossy pelt, the dance leapt back into action. The breath of the city was nothing compared to the breath of the fight.

Then yellow caught my eye. I did a double take. A hundred empousi had been turned to wheat. Standing next to the border, the honey-haired goddess smirked.

A black shadow shot past, stealing my gaze.

He danced like he'd been born leaping about on nimble feet. He fought with his sword and a small black dagger – an assassin's tools. He ducked around monsters, untouchable as a shadow, and left golden dust in his wake. He moved so fast I could hardly watch. Nico was dancing along the border, between monster army and panicking humans. Don't ask me why the insane kid was trying to protect them – pride? He couldn't let a mere mortal interfere with this war? Or was he simply trying to irritate his opponents?

I couldn't see details, not even the way his weapons worked together (for I had never been taught, through all my training, that pair) for the way the fight pulled. I swear, if it weren't for the border, I'd have let instinct and that sick state of mind take over and joined in.

"Nakamura, Guard," Kronos drawled. Immediately, I forgot all about my brother and the war, turning to face those cool golden eyes. They were fixed lazily on Olympus's doors. "Attend me. Giants – deal with them." A dismissive flick of his scythe set the massive Hyperboreans on Percy Jackson and his friends. Cold air began to gather.

Ethan shot forward, swift and quiet, bolting for the doors after Kronos. Brook leapt after him like a gazelle.

A nudge. I turned, glancing at Hunter, mind divided between too many things to think clearly. But she nodded, and right then, I forgot who we'd been that past year – we were just sisters, cousins, best friends, mother and daughter. Her head dipped toward the doors and, led by a warm instinct that swore never to lead me wrong, I sprinted for them.

She was on my heels. As soon as the door slammed behind her, all noises, both the fight and the city, were silenced like the throat of the world had been slit. All that remained was the echo of footsteps and cold air in the lobby.

I shuddered. This cold and empty breeze felt even less friendly than my father's glares of loathing.

Kronos was striding calmly, scythe swinging absently, towards an elevator near the back. It was alone, set aside from the others that lined the hallways, with an empty desk next to it. A copy of _New Moon_ lay face-down, pages crumpled, on the pale wooden surface. I swallowed thickly, for somewhere through my whirlwind of a mind, the image of a textbook in the same position surfaced.

A hand landed on my arm firmly, gripping tightly. I jumped. Ethan stared down at me, eye black when angled down, his hair a mess and hanging in his face. "Shadows?"

I nodded and stumbled to a stop against the desk, careful to avoid touching the book.

Kronos pushed the elevator button and stood there rocking back and forth on his heels impatiently, as if he were early for work.

"Great day to change the world, isn't it?" he said without turning.

I shuddered, knowing this air was unfriendly, still half-lost in the panicked state of a fight. I twitched and jumped. Întuneric was still drawn. "Yes sir."

Because what else could I say?

"Did Taylor prove worthy of the Guard?" he asked as the doors opened. He stepped in calmly, drawing his scythe against himself to make room for us. We piled in. The carpet, sleek walls, and doors were gold. A silver and bronze omega symbol decorated the back. In here, it was warmer than the lobby – just right, as if the lights from all six hundred floor-level buttons were enough to provide heat. Brook, the last in, squeezed herself into that corner and pushed _600._

"She listened to orders well," Hunter said simply. She stood next to her father. I was in the corner between her and Brook. Across from me, Ethan stood, golden light brushing the outlines of his face and the clumps of his hair, almost making him glow. "But she gives the air of a waiting snake. I wouldn't put insubordination past her."

"Oh, really?" Kronos mused. "I did not notice." His voice had that calm, cold tone that said you hadn't noticed, either.

I closed my eyes and thought, wondering if I had. Oh, yes, I'd seen. There was no trusting the vicious gleam in her eyes, the glinting knife as she leapt, landing on an enemy demigod, bright blood blooming into the air as he dropped… The satisfied gleam in her eyes… There was no trusting that.

My ears began to pop from the rising elevator. A feeling like poisoned thorns had gathered in my stomach as I remembered – I had done the same. Many times. They seemed like alien hands. Surely, mine weren't so demonic? The hands of an artist, the hands of my brother – it must've been him, not me, who'd lunged forward and ripped a sword through a girl's chest. She'd been no older than me.

No. The shiny, self-deceiving covering fell away. That living dance… As always after a fight, I watched as in my mind, the flesh was stripped from it. That panicked, hungry predator was unmasked. Layer after layer of bloody flesh, smelling of sweet sugar and other make-you-so-high-you'd-hug-Kronos things, was ripped aside. Beneath, I saw it for what it was – a skeleton, nothing more, bones not white and alive but yellowed, brown, fragile and rickety, old and long dead. Death's smell, the one Hunter described, that foul stench of rot and a life long fled, radiated from it. Gaping, soulless, uncaring eyes stared back at me. A skull's grin with half its sharp, tea-stained teeth missing danced before my eyes, so smug, claws so dangerous. A horrible, gruesome thing.

It was not a dance. Not the glorious, fast-paced, thrill ride battle-high told you it was. Reality crashed down on me hard. It was the march of a withered, hostile, demonic skeleton, bones clacking and rattling like sad empty things to the beat of the war drums.

It was not someone else's hands, or someone else's sword. It was mine, mine, mine. My fault. I was a monster. An ally demigod falling next to me was no longer a burst of energy – it was something to hide from, anything to get away from the blank gaze of death. The screeches and clashes in my memory went from the roar of that predator to the rattle of its bones, the promise of death, so loud and overbearing I lost myself in it. I was no longer Bree. I was a soldier, one of millions, fighting in a war, and that was all.

And this was part of every soldier's life.

My legs felt weak and my stomach rolled, as it usually did. The memories replayed themselves over, no longer filtered by the high of the fight, but as they were, realistic, showing the colors of the true horrors they were.

I grit my teeth and bit my tongue, shaking, and let them roll over me. When they were over, I took a deep breath, swallowed, forced my eyes opened, and lifted my head.

For despite my mental crash, this was not over. Not today, not until the war was won. I'd pay my respects later. So I swallowed my thoughts and turned back to the conversation.

We were at floor 400. Kronos was still discussing Taylor. Apparently, he'd gotten Ethan to back him up. "-And she surely knew what she was doing," the one-eyed Son of Vengeance finished.

"Oh, psh! So does anyone in this war," Hunter growled. 405. My ears popped again. "That means nothing."

"True," Kronos sighed, "but she showed a lot of promise. And she has shown no signs of insubordination so far – surely, you felt you could trust her, Nakamura?"

I turned to him, knowing what we'd hear. _Yes, sir._

Because what else can you say?

But a mischievous, hard-as-rock glint lit in his eye and he said, "Actually, my lord, I don't trust her, either."

Kronos stared, calm, unreadable thoughts flashing in his eyes. Slowly, still locked on Ethan's firm gaze, he drawled, "…I see. I'll do something about it."

A tense silence fell over us. It wasn't until then that I realized there was some pretty crappy music playing over the speakers.

I glanced at the buttons. 150 floors to go. Not wanting to listen to 1980's music for even that long, I drew my ear buds and turned on the iPod. The familiar heavy-metal cords were comforting, and much more sane than anything else at the moment.

No one said a word the rest of the ride.

oOo

_If today was your last day, and tomorrow was too late,_

_Could you say goodbye to yesterday?_

_Would you live each moment like your last?_

_Leave old pictures in the past?_

_Donate every dime you had?_

_Or would you call those old friends you never see,_

_Reminisce old memories,_

_Would you forgive your enemies?_

_And would you find that one you're dreamin' of,_

_Swear up and down to God above that_

_You'd finally fall in love…_

_If today was your last day?_

The elevator ended up in the clouds. They were thick and grey, menacing as waiting guard dogs. Bree's iPod was too loud; he knew because he could hear it, and knew it meant she was stressed. Or excited. Hard to tell the difference with her.

Brook had taken after Kronos's angry face, but on her it was truly unreadable; a look of stone. Ethan felt a pang of guilt – it was the same face she'd worn since agreeing to his and Herald's plot. Admittedly, she hadn't been in this situation at all before, but he couldn't help but feel there ought to be _something _on her face, not just stone.

Meanwhile, Hunter and Kronos were practicing their family resemblance. Despite being in Luke's body, he still look startlingly like her; gleaming golden eyes, long stride, slight smile as if they were trying not to laugh. Together, side-by-side, they stepped off the elevator and onto the bridge.

Ethan followed slowly, pressing on the cracked white marble with a shaking foot. Even had there not been fractures, he'd have been cautious; he had never been afraid of heights, but after Williamsburg, he was timid.

But his sneaker pressed back against his toes; the bridge was solid. So far.

Knowing he ought to still be standing beside Kronos, he shook off his fears and darted forward. He couldn't see the bridge's other side for the clouds; just Kronos and Hunter, fading into the mist.

Brook shot past to his right. On his left, in her traditional spot (for there was no one who'd fought with and beside him longer) was Bree, turning her iPod up even more. Her face was not stone like her younger sister's, but it was… calm. Controlled in a way that wasn't Kronos; he controlled himself to look and be flawless. She controlled herself for herself, because she had standards, and though wanted to present a look had the vanity of a cat; she dressed and acted to her image of 'perfection', and didn't care what others thought of it. Kronos didn't have that stability.

Ethan glanced at the bridge as it trembled. It was small, like a vibrating cell phone nearby, and utterly silent. Then he got a glimpse of the elevator over his shoulder. It floated in the sky, resting on its bed of clouds, closed doors staring sadly at them. Like it was grieving for its city already.

The bridge shook again, and he and Bree rushed to catch up.

oOo

Olympus was big.

That was his first thought. It truly was a mountain in the sky, a huge, looming peak that rivaled Everest. Dark, sturdy brown rock forming cliffs and ridges peeked through the crowded city. Greek-style buildings were everywhere, with a few Roman touches – pediments, friezes, columns, domes, arches, aqueducts, a bustling city.

Or, it should've been. The streets were as barren as New York had been before. Cobblestone streets were empty and abandoned, buildings hollow, wind making ominous windows as it weaved its way past. The lights had gone out. Some statues had already crumbled. Farther up the mountain, a main road was visible, weaving among the buildings and cliffs as if it'd been grown like a plant. Up top, on the acropolis, stood a grand building sporting the fanciest columns, a great triangle top, several steps, and a fake eagle perched on top.

The throne room. Council room, whatever, Kronos had always called it the former under the claim that the Olympians had never been good as successful councils.

The whole thing was clearly abandoned. He'd never seen it with its bustle of life, but even so, he knew all too well what was missing. It was as broken as its bridge. Its breath, it's meaning, had vanished. It seemed like it'd fall at any moment to those eerie, bass-toned winds, something once so glorious now so shattered and delicate, the shell of a scarab, the splintered shaft of a once-feared spear. The sight was almost painful.

Ethan turned, glancing around – and there, in the north park, he saw movement. He had to squint to see, but sure enough, white cots were spread out and a few lonely figures were crawling around like dazed ants.

"My lord, they've got an infirmary set up over there," he warned.

Kronos flicked his hand in dismissal. "Later, Nakamura. They will not stop me, and unlike my son Hades down there, I know my priorities." His voice was soft, lost in awe, taking in the abandoned city.

Ethan glanced out at it again, once more taken away by its sheer size. Some clouds drifted in and out of the sad, hollow buildings.

"Hard to believe it's taken so long just to get here," Kronos breathed, and stepped off the bridge and onto the main road, entering the bones of the city.

Ethan stepped off after him, next to Hunter and a heartbeat before Bree. The sight stole his breath, no longer for its size, but simply because it existed and he was there – his mother had not once set foot here, on so-called holy ground, this heaven, this place of gods.

Yet here he was.

His hands clenched into fists, nails digging in. That was what he had come here to fix. He had dared venture here in _her _name, fought under the questionable Kronos for so long, because he had a personal score to settle. He was too close to the conflict to ignore it.

A screech not unlike that of a wounded animal cut off his thoughts. He jumped, whirling around, one hand flashing to Savior's hilt. What he saw set a cold ball rolling in his throat.

It had been Kronos. He stood over the broken body of a juniper tree, ripped from its roots, broken trunk edges gleaming with liquid gold. His scythe was still hovering over it.

"…My lord?" Brook asked, frowning at the downed tree. Its naiad lay sprawled across the branches, bleeding gold and green from a slice across her middle. She and her tree were perfectly still, as if frozen in time, though Ethan knew all too well that that wasn't the trick Kronos had just pulled.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, crooked hidden smile gone and replaced with a wide, gleaming grin and eyes so intense they almost held their own nukes. "Yes?"

"I thought you mentioned priorities…?" she mused, raising an eyebrow. A small flutter of relief went off in Ethan's chest – she was still well enough to be her clever, observant self. "Killing the dryad seemed a bit unnecessary."

"Unlike the park, she is on our way to the throne room. Do not doubt me now, child. I know what I am doing." His eyes gleamed, as if those bombs had just exploded. He motioned to the destruction at his feet. "This is what we came here to do."

Bile filled Ethan's tongue, a bitter taste so strong he slammed his teeth down on his tongue until blood leaked between his lips. _Destroying this bird-boned city was what_ you _came here to do. I've told you time and time again I came for balance._

Kronos had always either said, 'same thing,' ignored him, or told him to keep that in his sights.

_I did,_ Ethan remembered, and pressed his wrist to his chest against the gun while pretending to scratch his left shoulder. Its pressure was comforting.

Yes, he had held on. Nothing mattered to him more. Many years of passion, passionate hate and longing and pain, were not easily erased.

His eye landed on Brook, who put her guarded face on again and glanced away. His lips twitched – _almost _nothing, it seemed. Luckily, they had decided to spare him the choice of choosing between those years and the people he'd met in this past one.

Kronos laughed and turned aside, striding across the cobblestones to another tree. There was a loud crash of thunder as it fell and then he moved on down the street, aiming for a small building, perhaps a shop or the dwelling of a wind spirit or one of the few minor gods allowed on Olympus.

Ethan sighed. Next to him, Bree turned off her iPod and glanced at his face, carefully reading something he hadn't meant to write. Then she turned and watched her cousin march after Kronos.

He sighed and followed Kronos into the empty, fragile shell of the Eternal City.

oOo

**Nyx: I'd like to have a small word with you, if you don't mind.**

**I know that on here, I portray myself as sort of a goofball. I like to crack jokes and be an amusement to my friends, but irl, it is rare; Nic is one of so few who has seen it. The majority of the time, I am quiet, serious, and actually antisocial. I love writing, which explains why my lighter side comes out a lot writing this Author's Notes, but I think I have failed to make myself known as a person. Not that online people need to know everything, but it won't kill anyone to know this.**

**That being said, I'd like to honor the people killed, injured, and the families involved with the explosions in Boston on Monday, including the family of the two bombers. As well as those affected by the fertilizer plant that exploded in Texas and demolished half a town. Heaven knows what so many people are going through right now. Thanks to all those who participated in Silent Day *for both Boston and the gay suicides. Yes, I am religious, and though I don't and won't press it on people I am far from ashamed, and I do not hate gays or see them any differently and feel VERY strongly about that topic* The song included in the chapter above, by Nickelback, was in tribute to those affected by the tragedies this week.**

**You never know how much time you have. Don't waste it.**

**Nic: *respective silence***

**Nyx: I know this is a weird update time, and that I am missing chapters this week. Next chapter will explain. **


	48. All the Roads Less Traveled

**DISCLAIMER: We do not own PJatO or HoO. Rick Riordan does. Don't ask me about the movies – I honestly don't know.**

**NOTE MUST READ: THIS IS NOT THE FULL CHAPTER. IT IS ONLY HALF. WILL EXPLAIN IN AN.**

oOo

The mountain was broken.

Utterly broken. Sad. It knew that somewhere, Typhon, the worst monster imaginable, was closing in on its subjects. Oh, it wasn't just the city – the very rock itself seemed to have cracked.

It made me so sad, because this city-in-the-clouds reminded me of Mount Othrys. I longed for home, and prayed I wouldn't ever see it as shattered as this.

Yet somewhere, this dying mountain found hope.

Demigods from the infirmary appeared in our path. Desperate, wounded things with the fires of Tartarus blazing in their eyes, a furious hate, a desperation not for their own life but for what they had lived for. Even a few inhuman things – naiads, dryads, minor Olympians. None were Ethan's mother, I saw, but I recognized a few by their discolored skin or animal features.

None that crossed our path lived.

Kronos sometimes told us to do it. It was always like it'd been before; a dance, the instinct of striving for survival taking over, driving me forever farther into the warlike state of mind. That blissful high that'd be the death of me later. Unless it was a minor godling, it usually didn't take more than one of us to do it.

At the time, I felt no pity for killing the wounded. Chances are, the other soldiers and demigods that'd died in the fighting were wounded before they died, too. Of course later I would come back to reality and realize that I hated it all the time, not just on Olympus, not just killing the wounded, but everything. The skeleton would no longer be in my blind spot.

But at the time, that's where it was.

Another set of bones was visible; the ruins of the city. We left nothing but rubble in our wake. The main street to Olympus, abandoned when we arrived, was strewn and in tatters at our backs. Kronos seemed not only intent to kill any breath, any little hope, of life that stood in our way but to kill what had never been alive in the first place, too. He was so confident in his power that he took to killing abiotic objects.

And took so much enjoyment out of it.

To say that I found no interest and only disgust and revolting feelings for the destruction of the hollow city would be a lie. I had been raised not only by Kronos but by people I trusted – Ethan, the dark-haired boy, Kyle – that the Olympians were evil. I had seen the results of their rule myself. Evidence was all over Mount Othrys. Every time I saw Ethan's face, I was reminded of what they'd done. I hate true hate for these beings I had never met. And I have, like many teenagers or just about anyone very strong-willed, always had a sadistic sense. It was fun to bite back, to create a hole as wide as one of their glorious temples, then go for more because it never felt as big as the hole in Ethan's face.

A little over halfway to the throne room, a great crack split the deathly silent air behind us. We all whirled around to see, but from this height and so far, it took a while to notice.

Then I saw it. The bridge, way down there, was gone. The elevator was a spec the size of a gnat, just floating in space.

A low keen came from Kronos. Suppressed laughter. "It's gone."

"…It is…" Ethan echoed, eye distant, lost in a daze.

My hands felt numb. Behind us lay a trail of rubble.

"Well," Hunter said. "No turning back now."

"There was never any _turning back,"_ Kronos laughed. The noise shook and rattled in his chest and his eyes were alight with a more dangerous fire than I'd ever seen before. One word came to my mind at the image; _unhinged._

This far up the mountain, the thin trail of protesters had stopped. Unopposed, we continued our march to the top of the world.

oOo

As we ascended the mountain, the temples started. They grew in size. And with them, Kronos's ambition.

Perhaps there was life in those buildings. Even as hollow and empty as they were, they held spirits, tributes, strengths to the gods. They were no more alive than the shadows, but no less meaningful. They were just beyond my own senses.

Living or strange shadows or dead or not, his moves got bolder.

The city already looked like we'd taken a giant weed whacker to it. His scythe seemed to suck and destroy every last essence from everything the blade touched. Now, I saw that to its extent.

At one point, I remember stopping in front of Artemis's temple. A great dome as white and shining as the moon, with a deer leaping along the top.

Kronos cast a glance at us. "Brook, this is for you. For her broken oath that's forever cursed your existence. Hunter, put up a time shield, will you?"

She did. She had explained how they worked before – basically a wall of thin magic. When things passed through the wall, that one little sliver, time stopped. Gravity and motion was sucked away and the shrapnel or arrows or whatever else became as useless as the textbook. Not a spell cast, but just a wall of energy. The shield Kronos had taught me to build with my shadows was a wall – hers was the absence of time.

With one arm, he reached out fast as lighting, cracking his scythe against one of the monument's pillars. The ground shook like the Williamsburg Bridge had. The marble and stone roared and exploded outward in every which way, great chunks of rock the size of houses, flying around. Despite the rumbling shadows, the power I'd felt behind them and coursing through myself, right then, I felt so insignificant. Next to something that big that moved so fast…

And then I glanced at Kronos. Who had made that sort of power. Who had made those massive, royal hunks of marble go shooting off. Oh, sure, the rocks were the show, and they were what made my stomach twist. But the real power was standing there.

Not for the first time but definitely the strongest, I felt a nagging doubt that the gun in Ethan's jacket would work. What magic had been done to the bullet to push it past the Achilles Curse? Or was it made to hone in on Kronos's weak spot? Was it even possible?

I shook my head, remembering Ethan's face that night we'd washed ashore after the ship exploded, the sincerity in his words and the feeling in his tone and the solidity of his story. He did not leave me any room for doubt, nor any for himself, and so therefore the bullet _had _to stand a solid chance.

Right?

I glanced at Kronos again and shuddered at the idea, at the discouraging thought of the courage needed to stand up to that sort of power.

oOo

The doorways to the Olympian throne room died in a similar manner. When Kronos was done, it looked like he'd run over them with his cruise ship.

Ethan gaped at the massive throne room. Had his mother been allowed on Olympus, she certainly wouldn't have been allowed in here. The chairs were big enough to sport twenty-feet-high beings. One was made of straw, another of grape vines, another just a simple fishing chair blown up to its current size. Each was unique and radiated with authenticity. Original works of art that could never be replaced.

He couldn't help but smile. Losing them would be devastating to the Olympians. To the people that had shut him out. To the ones that'd driven his father to madness, to the ones that'd scarred his mother to the point she scarred him. What a great change to the world it would be to level them to the ground, create a nice, flat plane that the world could balance on.

That's what he wanted. Balance. Oh, it tasted so sweet…

In the center of the room was a hearth. A great fire pit that could've held a burning house. Ashes, a slightly curved expanse, large, charred logs laying across it like bones in a graveyard.

Somewhere far away, he heard thunder rolling. Above, the ceiling portrayed the image of bright, gleaming stars. The air was cold.

He knew that somewhere far below, a battle was raging, monsters and demigods vs dead and demigods. Not too far from there, Typhon had to be closing in on the southern end of Manhattan.

It was almost over. Once Olympus was down and destroyed, he would be free. His mother's deal would be finished and he would no longer have to run.

Just draw the gun and pull the trigger. Just to make sure America didn't end up as wrecked as their path to this grand hall.

Kronos laughed coldly. "Look. It worked. They're still battling Typhon. I knew they'd be too scared to show."

"They lack priorities," Brook said dryly.

Kronos nodded. Red flags went off in Ethan's mind; the Titan was panting through his mouth, golden eyes wide, pupils so small they were pinpricks. He was dangerous now, very dangerous. He strode forward, footsteps echoing across the vast hall, and came to a stop at the center before the hearth.

"Finally!"

His cry echoed, unchallenged.

"The Olympian council – so proud and mighty." He glanced over his shoulder at Hunter. His eyes gleamed with hubris of his own. "Which seat of power should we destroy first?"

With a start, Ethan realized it was an honest question. Kronos wanted to include her in this historic moment, in his moment of triumph.

And Kronos's moment of triumph, as far as Kronos was concerned, would go just how Kronos had always dreamed it would.

_"Moo!"_

Ethan frowned and glanced up. Across the room, swimming in a floating sphere of water the size of a house, was a strange cow-seal creature. It waved its fin sadly at him. Kronos, if he heard, didn't bother.

Then another footstep echoed behind them.

Ice ran up his spine and bitter, hot hate bathed his tongue. He turned, and sure enough, there he stood, flanked by a satyr and Annabeth.

Ethan may hate the Olympians, but on a smaller, more pesky scale, he also had a score to settle with Perceus Jackson.

"My lord," he warned.

Kronos turned, that same wide smile on his face. Hunter was more graceful, spinning around, smirking. She met Annabeth's eyes and grinned wider. Annabeth turned pale and poked Percy's arm, but he was not listening.

"Shall I destroy _you _first, Jackson?" Kronos suggested. Ethan grit his teeth – of course the Lord of Time got first dibs on everything. "Is that the choice you will make – to fight me and die instead of bowing down? Prophecies never end well, you know."

Ethan had never heard a prophecy and would say he didn't care, but in all honesty, he did. The rumors about them were enough. And Kronos was right – they never ended well. He hoped Percy's was no exception.

And he waited. Bree, at his left side, brushed her fingers against the back of his hand, holding him back. His fingers twitched on Savior.

Soon, he told himself. Soon.

"Luke would fight with a sword," Percy spat, raising his own. "But I suppose you don't have his skill."

A low growl came from Kronos, and a brilliant fire sprang to life in his eyes. Eagerness, joy, fulfillment. He'd been waiting for this for longer than Ethan had. His scythe raised and morphed, changing, shifting until it was a double-edged sword of both silver and Celestial bronze. He beckoned Percy forward, daring him to take the first move.

Then Annabeth gasped. She yelled something so fast – all girls do that when they're stressed, surely Ethan wasn't the only one to notice – he didn't catch it. All he heard was that it rhymed. Prophecy excerpt, maybe.

Kronos, snarling at having his invitation declined, lunged.

oOo

It wasn't quite the explosion that it'd been when the fight resumed on Fifth Avenue, but an explosion nonetheless. A roman candle to the city's nuke.

Kronos leapt at Percy with a starved, rabid look in his eyes. I didn't have a chance to see what went down before Hunter was in the way, moving to one side, eyes bright and hand flicking desperately. A signal.

Ethan nodded in return and whirled, abandoning the fight between demigod and Titan, and raced for Annabeth. Knowing my place was at his left, I followed without question.

Somewhere, I heard the stringing of a bow and Brook's cold command. "Don't move." Probably covering the satyr, who yowled something in shock about Artemis.

Then we reached our target.

She fought with one knife, not two, and despite having her right arm dysfunctional – I'm not entirely sure why, nor does it matter – wasn't helpless. That knife moved faster than any other I'd seen before. On Ethan's first charge, he got two scratches across his arm for his efforts, and retreated quickly with a curse.

We were more careful after that.

It was still a dance. A faster one, but with partners, not a mass freak-out. Still familiar. Yet… With a new flavor. I didn't use my powers yet, not in the beginning, but the sword was entertaining enough.

Once the first strike had failed, Ethan and I split up. I slipped behind Annabeth and kept well out of the way as he lunged again, trying to gain an edge with a longer blade. She dodged and flipped his sword aside like it was nothing. While she was distracted, I flung Întuneric out and down, only to have it met by a bronze knife and molten onyx eyes. The clash of blades rang like gunfire.

I scowled and stepped back, leaving Ethan room to jump in, back and forth and back and forth along to his beat. This was too predictable for Annabeth.

Next time, I swooped in from the side, low and fast. Before I knew what was happening, the knife landed halfway to the hilt in my right shoulder, something heavy landed on my back, and she disappeared – yanking the knife with her. She'd rolled right over me.

I landed on the marble ground, crushing my wounded shoulder. Red lines shot across my vision like lightning, painful as fire. Yet somewhere, fury sprang to life, and in an act of spite I bit my tongue in an effort to save her the satisfaction of hearing me cry out.

As I scrambled to my feet, I heard Ethan yell something angrily, and the furious bite of blades. Farther off, Kronos was fighting Percy, laughing each time his blade slammed down onto Riptide. My shoulder was more numb than anything else, but it was a cold, hostile feeling that set my throat on fire. No, not on fire – they were shadows, vibrating down to my fingertips, humming through Întuneric. A bitter taste filled my tongue at the scent of blood.

Pinpointing her by the sound of her knife on Savior, I leapt to my feet, switching Întuneric to my left hand and flinging shadows as hard as I could. Ethan cursed and scrambled back as black energy exploded against the marble at their feet. Annabeth barely got away standing. Where the shadows had hit, the marble was cracked.

I yelled, raised my sword, and charged.

Clearly, we were both done with playing games. The dance had become a hunt. I let instinct take over; and demigod instinct includes powers. Before she could recover from the blast, I shot up on Stygian iron (the mountain was deep enough for it) and rose into the air, well-familiar with it after so much rehearsal, and fired as I went.

She must've dodged, because when I landed in a crouch and ready to spring to my feet, she was ready and waiting.

She moved fast, but not as fast as I did. She hadn't been trained by Kronos. She didn't incorporate the acrobatics that'd I'd been trained to do; she didn't roll or handspring or use shadows. She dived, yowling, quite often for my injured arm. In turn, Ethan ducked in for hers, then danced out of the way before he accidentally got blasted.

Yet I was still detached; I could watch and be involved, yet had my own thoughts, my own plans. I led her farther from Percy, working to the other side of the hearth. She knew I was leading her away and tried to stop it, but between Ethan and I, we didn't leave her much choice. My plans clicked into place as we went, all that strategizing, all those lessons, making more sense than they ever had; we wore her down as we went, and once she was successfully separated, moved in to deal some real damage.

I growled, retreating, watching Ethan leap up from behind. Sure enough, she lunged forward after me, seeing Întuneric raised and my foot planted to lunge. But it was Savior's hilt that slammed down on her head, not my blade.

Neither, actually. She flinched back, dodged, and delivered a fast round-house kick to his chest. Savior clattered to the ground and he with it, a loud _oof _sounding as the breath was driven from his lungs.

Had it been Kyle or Herald or Brianna or Taylor, I'd have left them there and chased after the retreating Annabeth. But it was Ethan; I simply fired shadows in her direction and then knelt to help him up.

"Luke, listen!" Annabeth screamed. As Ethan coughed, I risked a glance up. Kronos and Percy were still locked in combat. The satyr was testing Brook's limits, and Hunter was nowhere to be seen.

Then Annabeth skidded to a halt. "PERCY!"

Before she could get any farther, Kronos whirled around. A deafening crack sounded as white flashed, and she went flying, crashing with a sickening crunch into one of the thrones before crumpling at its base.

A barking laugh came from Kronos, eyes wide and parted smile gleaming. Percy made not a sound as he slipped up behind the Titan, sword raised, a murderous look in his bright green eyes.

Kronos's smile only grew, and he whispered one word. "Now."

A golden streak slammed into Percy, sending them both crashing to the ground. They rolled several feet before stopping, Hunter planted firmly on top of him, the sword-like blade at the base of her scythe held dangerously close to his throat. Riptide had gone skidding so far, it tapped my boot impatiently.

Ethan rolled to his feet and strode to where Brook stood, backing her up. I didn't move from where I stood between the rest of the room and Annabeth.

"Hold him there," Kronos drawled as he gathered himself. He straightened and turned his sword back into a scythe. He straightened his armor and strode forward confidently. "You should've listened to the girl, Jackson. Meet Hunter, my daughter."

Green eyes sparked dangerously as Percy jerked upwards, only to be stopped by Hunter's elbow slamming into his head. He growled, grit his teeth, and glowered.

"You see, I've been meaning for you two to meet," Kronos went on, leaning above them. Hunter didn't take her eyes off her opponent. "It had to be very late, you see, but not so much so that you wouldn't have time to become acquaintances. Very delicate timing. Luckily, timing is something I'm good at." A dry chuckle, like the pealing of a funeral bell. "You've already met Nakamura. The other two… Well, I don't think they're interested."

Brook growled on cue, though it was at the satyr, who was edging his way along the thrones towards Annabeth and I.

Percy spat angrily. Hunter blinked the mess out of her golden eyes and pressed the scythe's blade harshly against the skin on his throat. Just like the skin on Kronos, it didn't rupture as it should've.

"You know, it's rude not to speak upon meeting someone," Kronos growled, eyes narrowing. This were varying from his image of perfection again. "Do say something."

"Just one?" Percy growled.

Kronos smiled. "That would suffice, I suppose."

Percy, in return, didn't actually say anything nor could he raise his hand very far, but instead held up the longest finger on his right hand. Kronos growled-

-Water.

It slammed into me like a bus. It reminded me of falling into water, but this was just different – water fell into me. Sideways, like it'd been shot from a hose.

As my world disappeared into a very startling, strong, choking current, I dimly recalled the massive orb of water housing a sea animal in the back of the room.

Idiot.

The next thing I really remember is being slammed onto the marble floor and sliding. The water died down so fast, like a switch had been flicked. I lay choking and coughing in the middle of a massive puddle, shivering.

A foot landed in front of me. I glanced up – Brook, her eyes wide with concern.

I glanced round. Hunter was standing, not where she had been before, similarly soaked and spitting water out of her mouth. Her golden eyes were glowing, literally glowing, fixed furiously on Percy, who now stood ten feet in front of her, smirking. The look she gave him suggested his death was just three-point-three-continuing yards away.

Kronos appeared untouched. He'd used a time shield to save himself, but not us. He then turned away and called over his shoulder to Hunter, "He's yours. I have work to do – call if you need me."

And he began to hack at the nearest throne.

Before Percy or Hunter could move, sparks lit across Percy's upper back. He staggered and whirled, barely dodging Savior's second strike. Ethan scowled and leapt after him, chasing him all the way to where Riptide lay. Hunter ran around the hearth the other way, ready to approach from the other side.

Just as Percy reached his sword, it blurred, and disappeared. He howled with frustration and leapt once more away from Ethan's blade before drawing a pen from his pocket.

Something lit the air just then. Brook and I turned – the satyr stood above Annabeth, playing a song on some small reed pipes.

No, not a song. A spell. Grass began to grow in the cracks in the marble, between thrones, beneath the hearth.

"I'll get it," Brook said. "You help them with Percy." And she leapt into the air, for a moment blotted out by the light of the stars above.

When she landed, she was on the four tan paws of a cougar, sprinting for the satyr.

I turned back to Percy's fight to see Ethan get doused in water and Hunter's scythe slam into a bronze sword. She was moving so fast. Time-warp, I registered, before I was on them.

He was a good swordfighter. One of the best I've ever seen. But he was not good at controlling shadows; he was not as nimble as I was; though I was not the most flexible person alive, he wasn't even close; and it was one versus three.

Between blasts of shadows, spurts of Stygian iron pushing him into the exact position we wanted him, and the sharp accents of time magic, it didn't take long.

The three of us worked perfectly together. It came as natural as breathing, as natural as the anger building in my chest and in my wounded shoulder. It burned and stung from the salt water. The shadows rumbled hungrily, promising me that he'd pay, but it wasn't comforting. More of a driving force.

I caught his blade on mine, tossed it aside, and moved in for another strike. I was still faster, but Întuneric bounced harmlessly off his chest. Well, apparently, that's not where his Achilles 'heel' was. His sword caught mine again, and I don't know what he saw through my helm, but whatever it was he yelped in shock, so surprised he nearly dropped his sword.

Ethan slammed into him from behind, Savior glancing off his scalp. I dove out of the way as Hunter shot in, faster than any magical bullet. Her scythe moved like a whirlwind, it guiding her rather than the other way around. She danced round it as it slammed into Percy's chest, shoulder, head, side, and finally his throat. Each hit rang loud as thunder.

The son of Poseidon crumpled, choking, gasping at the air. He never got any. The scythe cracked against his side again with a sound like a whip, harsh enough to make me flinch, then again against his head.

That's when I saw it – each blow reinforced with enhanced speed, time magic, harder than Hunter could actually swing it. It probably had the force of a bullet train's piston. He might've been invincible, but he still felt pain. For a moment, his eyes glazed over, and he went limp.

It was half a second, but that's all Hunter needed. Fast as a striking dracaena, she drew a thick string of cable from her pocket. She wounded them around Percy's wrists, securing them behind his back, and then leapt back as if the cable were live.

The cords began to glow, pulsing a familiar dark green color. Hecate's magic.

The words of her half-blood son, so long ago – could it have only been a year? – resurfaced in my mind. _Glyphs can direct, control, boost, or restrain magic._ Bright turquoise eyes glinted with a sharp intelligence.

Percy, at least half recovered by now, growled and clenched his fists. I recognized it – I'd seen it, seen him use water, bending it like felt to his will – but instead, the water lay motionless. The wires lit so bright they could've been alight with Greek fire. Percy tensed and screamed, yanking frantically on his wrists until it died down.

Percy went limp against the ground again, green eyes boring into the base of the hearth, chest heaving with breaths. It reminded me strongly of a wild animal shoved in a cage for the very first time.

A growl, a real feral snarl, made me look up. A cougar stood over a cowering satyr. The reed pipes had been shattered. Next to the cat's tail, Annabeth still lay motionless.

Ethan's eye met mine. His lips twitched, eyes alive, full of wonder.

"Dad," Hunter called and stood up, huffing and storming off towards Brook as if annoyed with Percy by now.

Kronos turned from the rubble of a throne to glance at us. He broke out into smile once more. "Oh, good, you did it. Do me a favor, bind the other two up and bring them all over here, would you? I think it's time for a nice little chat."

oOo

**Nyx: OKAY lot to do here in few words. News: TMA beat TLO in our poll 2;1. The cover is now up. I did it myself with pencil, paper, and Adobe Photoshop Elements Nine. Hard to see the details, but look at Ethan, and you'll first see contrast and then begin to understand the picture. As I've mentioned, the original was much darker (not literally) and deeper, and was vetoed for obvious and not-so-obvious reasons. Some of you may be able to figure out what it was, if you've been paying attention.**

**Nic: Why am I up so early?**

**Nyx: You all know my weeks are hectic. I am going somewhere tomorrow – oh, look, today! It's past midnight! Lovely – and will likely not be back until late at night. When I write your three chapters a week, I manage to get maybe half a chapter to a chapter (if I'm lucky) done Monday-Thursday. The rest is written Friday, maybe Saturday if I'm really slow, part of the reason the update times have changed. The rest of my weekend is designated for other projects and necessary things in life, such as family time. So, to be honest, this is all I have written so far.**

**The rest of this chapter (meaning you will come BACK HERE tomorrow) and the third will be up TOMORROW, probably in the afternoon. I PROMISE you it WILL be done by then. And I will NOT disappoint. However, I am leaving very early today, and need my sleep. Besides, though I am a night owl, my writing stinks when I'm tired. You wouldn't enjoy reading my all-nighters, anyway. You cannot BEGIN to imagine how bad I feel for doing this, but I have no choice, and every author has been late to post once or twice. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE forgive me! I have tried! My chapters are TEN pages in size twelve, SINGLE-SPACED TIMES NEW ROMAN font and are very long. It is hard to get them all done by the designated time.**

**Hopefully, summer will be easier. For the sake of my sanity, we will continue the trans-Saturday posting for the rest of Rebels. When we start Rejects, the sequel, we will go to posting three different days a week and see how it works.**

**I apologize once more. Will get those done ASAP. Please try to understand. I hate doing this at the climax, too….**

**Ach, it is late, and I must go. Best wishes until I am back. **

**UPDATE:**

**Nyx: Hey! Still working! Had some things to do today, too. Sorry for being so late, hope you like it! And thank you to those who forgave me!**

**Nic: We reposted the poll for favorite character, if anyone's interested. Please review! This is a crucial (obviously) part of the book, and we'd love feedback!**

**Nyx: Thanks for being patient. Next chapter up SOON. Maybe tomorrow, if I'm really late, but it WILL be up! You guys would not believe what I've put off to get all these chapters done, the whole book long… 'Guess it goes to show how much I love writing. See you all soon!**

12


	49. Flight 93

DISCLAIMER: Rick Riordan owns PJatO and HoO, not us. As you probably know by now.

NOTE: SOOOOO SORRY for the delay! Hope you like it; it was a very cruel chapter to make you wait for, but I'm pretty happy with it. You'll have to tell me what you think. –Nyx

oOo

His heart was pounding like crazy, his palms were still sweating, and his head was spinning like crazy. It took note of what he saw and moved on to the next thing, eager to take in everything like a starving tiger a dead zebra, still in a fight-or-flight mode.

Yet there he stood, stiff and still as a rod, watching as Kronos moved on to the next throne. At his feet, all bound and sitting cross-legged, weapons piled next to the hearth, were Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, and Grover Underwood. It was over.

He glanced at the scythe swinging angrily at Dionysus's throne of vines. _Almost _over.

His gaze then fell on Bree, who stood on the other side of the prisoners, Întuneric drawn. She stared ahead of her. He wasn't sure what she saw. Hunter guarded the door but kept glancing back at what Kronos had placed above the hearth. Brook, too, busy licking a wound on her paw, shot glances at the screen.

It was a magic thing, a live feed of the battle going on miles and miles beneath their feet. The battle teetered dangerously; it was fast, desperate, and couldn't figure out which side it favored. He knew very well it could go either way. His heart raced faster – if the Olympians and their undead allies began to win, before Typhon and/or Kronos finished off the gods, his trick with the gun was going to be tricky, if it'd work at all.

A small whisper made him glance down. At his feet, Percy was whispering something to Annabeth, who looked dazed. Kronos had refused to put gags on them, because he wanted to listen to what they said and because he was sure that no plan they could make would save them.

"Hey," he growled as Annabeth whispered something back. "Quiet."

"Leave them, Nakamura," Kronos called lazily, leaning back to examine the nine thrones still intact. He smiled and strode for Athena's, muttering happily to himself about showing her how to use a _real _weapon.

Annabeth growled and flinched, as if it hurt to speak. Beside her, Percy had closed his eyes and gone stiff all over. At the smallest movement from Ethan, a loud hiss erupted from him and his hands flexed against the magic-resistant cables. Grover was praying about some juniper tree.

"L-l-leave that alone," Annabeth rasped as Backbitter sliced through an armrest.

"Would I have come so far to quit here, child? Are you stupid, or do you take me as such?" Kronos said without turning in a casual tone, cocking his head to one side as he considered where to strike next. "That does not seem like a very good strategic move, running a race just to quit inches from the finish line. Especially when you're winning."

"Don't speak to her that way," Percy spat. His voice rumbled with the force of an active volcano ready to blow. "She's smarter than you'll ever be."

"Y-y-y-yeah!" Grover bleated sadly. His goat-hooves twitched.

"Then it's a shame such talent was wasted. She could've been of use to me," Kronos said simply.

On the screen above the hearth, the first outline of Typhon became visible over the towers of lower Manhattan.

oOo

It was chaos even before the monster arrived. Oh, the battle was much less bloody than the Battle of the Labyrinth, where the bright flutters of mortal death had been going off every other second, but it was faster. More desperate. It required sharper moves, faster eyes, and a much more clever sword.

_Mνήμη_and I had never worked so hard. The world slid by as fast as time did, just blurs and faces my pounding heart, and the instincts that kept me alive. That and the thick scent of Thanatos. He was here, in many places, for the monsters and for us, the demigods.

Death was indifferent. He was here for both sides. And both sides would've been lost without him. I could feel, through familiarity and so many senses I sometimes wished I didn't have, how he worked and weaved between our ranks. Oh, I never saw him – Uncle Thanatos was too clever for that – but I felt him. Not just when he took demigods, but as the fight progressed, driving it towards its end.

Because Death can end most battles, and usually did.

He was there, among us, taking up the air between each writhing body. I was aware of him; I was aware of things coming at me and moving all around; now and then I was aware of the mortals running around in panic.

And Mνήμη. It and my dagger. My lifelines, as I was too tired to use much magic, anyway.

My senses were totally overloaded, too, with the thoughts of the skeletons. They ran around in their own fights. It took all I had to tune them out and focus on my own.

A hissing snake-woman surfaced from the ocean of the fight, finding my cramped little island. There was not much ground I had to work with. But my mind, the part that was still awake, knew what to do. I dodged her spear, lunged in, and decapitated her with my sword before she could do anything. Mνήμη vibrated as the demon essence was absorbed.

I whirled for the next one, tipped off by the firm step of an armored shoe on the broken concrete. I caught the gleam of eyes, human eyes, beneath the faceguard of their helm. A fellow demigod, maybe ten or eleven, the age I'd been when I first came to Camp.

He was slow and awkward with his sword. I don't know how he survived as long as he did. Before he probably saw me, I plunged my dagger through the faceguard and between his eyes. A brilliant explosion went off in my mind, a sickly sweet taste washing over my tongue only this time fresh, electricity shooting through every cell. I released him and whirled around, smacking a nearby empousa so hard she dissolved on the spot. My eyes honed in on the next target and, succumbing to the now-familiar sadistic grip of a fight, I lunged.

True to its name, my sword buzzed and hummed. A name, the one of the dead demigod, entered my head. A flood of memories flashed in my mind. I shoved them aside and focused on my task.

"Nico!"

I ducked under a Laistrygonian's club and whirled, searching. There – Father stood in the middle of the street, shoving an enemy hellhound aside brutally. He caught my gaze and pointed up towards Manhattan's skyscrapers, just a moment, before turning and joining the fight again. The skeletons nearby took on a desperate air, lunging wildly at their enemies, reacting to some panic in his mind.

Dodging another demon, I turned, and froze in my tracks. A massive silhouette, three times as high as any tower, loomed up against the clouds. Black and bright dots alike whizzed around it frantically. The massive head jerked to one side and then the other. Teeth the size of towns slammed down, a thundering noise louder than a jet engine. A giant, clawed hand, swatted at the Olympians that swarmed it.

He was standing in the New York Bay, I think. Still, when his foot stepped on the bottom, the earth beneath my feet bucked and jerked and rumbled like a thousand drakons racing past at once, nearly throwing me from my feet.

As I dodged and sliced at another demigod – Mνήμη cut through their armor like butter, leaving them choking and thrashing on the ground at my feet – a cold feeling raced up my spine, like a nearby ghost screaming for help.

Typhon took another step, and the ground convulsed with another spasm. He was so close, I could smell him from where I stood.

Dread began to creep up my throat like dozens of spiders. _Kill him, kill him, _I prayed, because we and Olympus were lost if they didn't.

But the swarming Olympians didn't gain any ground. I turned around to fend off a Laistrygonian and when I looked Typhon again, I saw him swat one of the Olympians aside and move as if to take another step. I braced myself, ready for it this time –

And the most unbelievable thing happened.

Water roared up, splashing over the tops of skyscrapers, rushing up and swirling around the demon in a massive vortex. On the massive wave rode legion upon legion – mermaids and men, Cyclopes riding hippocampi, and dolphins. Like piranhas on a carcass, they swirled around and around, led by a giant man holding a trident at the front.

Poseidon. Apparently, I wasn't the only one to coax my father out of hiding.

Chains were thrown, headed with weights and blades, locking into the hide of the great demon like beestings. It didn't look like much until more and more came, every member of the undersea armies throwing their own chain and swirling around… And around…

I was forced back into the fight for another few moments. When I looked back, Typhon appeared to be dressed in a suit of black chains.

Then, as if he'd stepped into thin air, he began to sink.

A hot, hot pin started pricking my upper throat. Something long, dark, and empty seemed to open up inside my chest. It screamed of pain and something so crooked it was worse than Kronos's cursed scythe; it clawed at me like a hungry vulture; it screeched with the feral, demonic howl of a torturer gone truly mad. There was no magic darker than this – and I knew very well where it came from.

I glanced at Father who, sure enough, was concentrating hard.

Typhon continued to sink, beyond the bay and the rivers. The hot, evil hunger I felt yelped and barked and bit hungrily. I shuddered, flinching, trying to fend the magic off my mind. But it wasn't an easy thing to do.

Typhon kept sinking until he disappeared among the skyscrapers, but I felt the rest. I felt more than anyone else – save Father and Thanatos – did, because I could sense the hole to Tartarus that'd been opened. I felt each twist and strike the pit made against the demon as it fell.

Then the portal was closed, and the whole thing vanished.

My mind snapped back into place, and my body back into the fight; as the Olympians rocketed by over head, I lost myself once more in the throes of the mass violence. The bitter taste of Tartarus gave way to the sugar taint of death. The instinct and aching, hollow need to move and to kill something – for how else was I to survive? – took over again, wrenching myself into place like a warden throwing a prisoner back into his cell, and I leapt at the next Titan demigod with Mνήμη aimed at their throat.

oOo

Even Kronos was shocked. Though on him, it looked more furious. Not his so-mad-I'm-calm-and-cool-like-freaking-flawless-sh ove-my-scythe-up-yours mad, but the crazed, loose, jerky, loud way he got when taken by an unpleasant surprise.

Like, for example, your super-awesome demon ally just getting flushed down the toilet when he was supposed to be invincible and hopefully kill off a few of your enemies for you, leaving the others weak and on their knees at your feet.

Ethan had gone white-faced and stiff as a rod. Savior shook in his hands. Fire had lit in the Titan's eyes, the wild kind that started an explosion and got people killed. Me, I was shocked – I had never seen a demon so big.

Much less had I ever seen one go down.

It had felt… I don't know why, or what it was from. But I sensed it. Tartarus, maybe, as it made since the Olympians would imprison him there. I didn't like it. The magic had felt darker than any shadow, hungrier than any fear, and colder than absolute zero. I stared at the misty screen, still wondering why Typhon wasn't marching above the city right now. But the touch of the magic that'd taken him still lingered, and I knew that he wasn't coming back.

Kronos's breath came in heavy, barely controlled surges, eyes burning a hole in the screen. His teeth were grinding – I could hear it from where I stood.

An angry Kronos was not enticing me to move.

To my left, standing at the doors, Hunter stared with a cool indifference on her face. Yet I could sense more than see the thoughts and worries in her eyes.

Just then, Brook came through the doors, cougar jaws clamped tight on a silver jacket. In the jacket, as well as a matching silver shirt and torn black jeans, a bow broken and hitched in an empty quiver, arms bound like Percy's and the others', was a girl. The spiky black hair was currently dyed with a strip of electric blue in the front, matching her eyes. The girl cursed and writhed. As Brook dragged her in, I flinched – those black jeans concealed legs twisted and broken. She'd been injured on the way and been left behind by the others.

I glanced at Percy, who stared with cold, unreadable green eyes at the image of New York.

Brook dropped the fighting girl – Thalia, I remembered dimly through my daze – and cocked her head to one side, ears flicking.

Hunter shook her head. "Typhon's dead. The Olympians are on their way."

"Oh." When I looked back at Brook, she was herself again, albeit tired from the spell. "That might be a problem."

"Obviously," Hunter muttered, rolling her eyes and staring out into the city.

"Hunter," Kronos said tersely.

"Hm, Dad?"

"Go to the park. Warp the whole trip. Destroy what you find and be back here before the Olympians show. If you have time, check the perimeter, take care of anything you find. If the main attack force gathers and approaches, come straight back, understand?"

"Yes, Sir," she said, and shot off in a golden blur.

"You coward."

I turned. Percy was glowering at Kronos, voice dripping with raw anger, though he refused to yell. "What's of any danger to you among the injured? They're not going to stand a chance against you, and they aren't even trying. Only the paranoid would try to take them like that."

"Paranoid?" Kronos growled. "I do not have to explain myself to _you,_ demigod."

"He means Apollo," Brook simplified. "Once he arrives, he could refresh the demigods you have in the infirmary. Which would be bad for us."

"Did I _ask _you to speak, child?!" Kronos roared.

I tensed. Ethan's breath made an audible sound as he sucked it in sharply.

Brook met his eyes evenly, but behind her back, I saw her hands shaking. "No, Sir."

"Then don't," he growled, "lest you want to end up falling off this mountain." And he whisked around to slam his scythe once more into Demeter's throne.

"He's still paranoid," Annabeth muttered.

"Better safe than sorry," Ethan snarled. His voice had taken on the cold, uncaring tone that it'd held for the first months after we'd met.

"Is that what balance means, Ethan?" Percy muttered. Ethan stiffened and drove Savior's tip into the marble at his feet. "Yeah, I heard what you said. You know, the day I saved your life just to watch you betray us for Kronos. Great act of balance there. Can't say this one's any worse, now can you?"

"Look around," Ethan growled quietly. "Do you see a throne for Nemesis? What kind of balance have _you _made? Clean your own damn house before criticizing mine." His hand twitched, reaching absently for the holster inside his jacket.

"_Luke!"_

I whipped around, sword leveled towards Annabeth, but she wasn't focused on me. Her grey eyes had gone wide and were focused on Kronos, hands straining against her bonds, panic written in every curve of her face and every limp, dirty, blond strand.

That's what I realized Kronos wasn't striking at Ceres's – ach, Demeter, I'm sorry – throne voluntarily. Another spasm sent his scythe clattering to the ground. My chest tightened – it's not fun watching someone have a seizure – as he turned, and just for a moment, a flash of lightning in a storm-

His eyes were blue.

Then they solidified into gold again, and Kronos smirked, shaking his head.

"…My lord?" Ethan asked. Testing if he was still in control.

"It is fine, Nakamura. Luke is trying to gain control. I'm willing to leave him now."

Willing… to leave?

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered Kronos saying that Titans were classified as monsters. And monsters didn't usually have to occupy a host.

They had their own forms.

Too late, I realized that Kronos wasn't just coming undone. I stared at the New York skyline, praying, hoping to see Typhon reemerge. But he didn't. My heart raced, telling me what I already knew, whispering with each beat.

_Too late. Too late._

I glanced at Ethan, looking for an answer. But his eyes had gone wide and his face even paler, and he shook his head. Savior quivered.

That bullet wasn't going to kill Kronos once he changed.

Images flashed before my eyes; the Hecate kid, the bruise across Hunter's cheek, the ruins and ashes along the path to the throne room, the dining hall filled with monsters and their sick meals, the image of the son of Hades that'd been painted in my mind time and time again, then the image of my face over his, highlighting what Kronos wanted me to be, and I heard his cold voice and felt his scythe at my throat and I knew, without asking, what he'd do. I could see it. A vast plain of ashes, completely level, lacking humans and mortal life. A world ruled by demons with every dimension perfect, the air just right, every speck of ash set to his liking. I saw the tribute to Artemis go flying, massive boulders everywhere. I saw what he'd done to the nymph. I remembered his lessons, telling me not to fear the blood of an enemy but to enjoy it, not to be mindless in the battle-bliss in the way of every soldier to but like it, to _crave _it, because that was his image of perfection and I, nor anyone else in this world, was to be nothing less.

If we never had the guts to pull that trigger, the world we knew would fall to all that. It would be nothing but ashes, so thick up in the sky that you couldn't see the sun, the air cold as his scythe, a desolate place not unlike the small touch of Tartarus I'd felt before. It was cold enough to freeze bones. That skeleton I'd seen before, there were many, frozen and locked in place, reminders of all the warnings we'd had. Where there wasn't ash, I saw blood and ice. Or, now and then, fires.

And Kronos was smiling at it.

Surely, such a fate didn't really depend on us? On my hands? That wasn't the kind of decision I could make.

And who knew what the _Olympians _had planned?

It felt like I'd snorted little ice crumbs. Too late, too late.

We had no choice now. The Olympians were on their way. Shoot Kronos now, they win. Wait until later, the gun wouldn't work, and we were condemned to do whatever he wished.

My stomach twisted and knotted at the thought. I'd never had a choice, had I? Oh, Kronos never intended to give me one. He never intended for there to be a way out.

And here, now, Kronos controlled everything.

So I was damned to end up like my brother after all. That monster I could become was still very well. I felt its claws close in my throat, heard it whisper in my ear. It had bad breath, you can imagine, that of a rotting corpse long dead. It, like the touch of any demon, said that I wasn't getting away. Any demon that got close enough to lay a claw on you wasn't going to let you escape.

"Luke! It's me! Annabeth! Listen!"

"Ssh," Percy hissed.

I risked a glance at Brook. She had gone stiff, but I saw it in her eyes. The fear. A very different demon.

"Luke!"

"Shut up!" Brook howled, whirling around. The terror in her eyes burned like a brushfire. A low hiss trailed between her teeth. "_Don't,"_ she whispered, "_encourage him."_

She was trying to keep Kronos locked in Luke as long as she could.

I turned to Ethan, scared and hopeful, a mad circular race going on in my head. He had moved down the line of prisoners, Savior still wobbling, and now stood behind Annabeth. Was it possible? Could Brook, brilliant little Brook, buy us time?

But Ethan wasn't thinking about that. His gaze had settled on something behind me.

I turned in time to see Kronos – I hadn't seen him cross the room – slam the shaft of his scythe into the side of Brook's head. She went down like paper in a fire, crumpled newspaper under the blaze of golden eyes. The same golden eyes that'd welcomed me to Mount Othrys, and the same eyes that threatened to take it all away, the ones that matched Hunter's, the ones I'd grown up all my life under.

Pain doesn't come first in a situation like that. Never. Nor anger. Just a cold shock. Forget the snorting of ice I'd mentioned earlier – the world had already turned to ash, the sun long gone, leaving the land locked in an Ice Age. Everything was still, silent, preserved for years beneath that freezing ice, including the crumpled silver form at his feet. Brown curls were sprawled across the marble and over her face like a fallen mockingbird, once so beautiful, now an echo of once well-deserved glory. Something that wasn't supposed to die just yet.

Ice Ages are oh so lonely.

They moved through ice, so slow, slowly leaking into reality. Maybe I wasn't so alone. Things moved, they breathed, they acted. I recognized a few. Kronos. His scythe, raised again, the rims of his eyes gold but the center blue. He jerked once, then his eyes glazed over with that cold metal once more, and he swung his scythe down again. Why, I didn't know. I wasn't sure if she was still alive to receive it.

Either way, he never got there.

I didn't understand, at the time, why Ethan didn't fire the gun. I do now, but not then. Wouldn't it have been faster? Wouldn't it have saved us the rest of that bloody war? I didn't know details, but I wasn't stupid. The gun was our assassination weapon, not Savior.

Yet Ethan ran, faster than anyone I'd even seen, even Brook, taking full advantage of his long legs. I heard him scream. It could've been a scream or it could've been words. All I heard was the tone – fury, defiance, and something so exasperated it could've come from myself that day I'd typed up my paper for English in three different fonts, because I couldn't remember the one I'd been told, only to find out none of them fit and that the paper sucked to begin with. Ethan sure was sick and tired of _something._

The scythe came to a sudden stop, vibrating, against the edge of Savior.

Ethan had fixed his gaze on Kronos. There was no describing the look in his eye. Like a hole, like you could see straight through him, not just fury or anger or that exasperation but everything. Every feeling, every thought he had right then. Like all those myths about people having true names that stood for every fiber of their being, the name that could be used to bend there will or to give them strength.

He gave everything he had that day. I'll never forget it, because it's not an exaggeration. Every inch of his body, heart, and soul. It's such a rare thing to see, and as painful as it was to watch, I'm glad I was so lucky. Ethan – he was even luckier.

"Nakamura," Kronos said dryly. "Move. Now."

In his eyes, there was also that mischievous look I'd seen in the elevator. Of every tone he could've put into his next words, it was a laugh that bubbled from his throat. "I don't think so. I'm done pretending I'm blind. I still got one eye, if you didn't notice, and I intend to use it."

Kronos scowled. I'm sure this was all very much against his plan, but it was controllable. I know because he didn't begin to come undone again. "Very well. I'll kill you first."

"LIKE HELL!"

A bullet shot past me so fast I was knocked over, shouldered aside by an arm and blinded by the flash of a sword. On his heels was a blond girl brandishing a knife.

Percy and Annabeth.

I glanced back, bewildered, at where they had sat. The small crevasses Savior had made were there, one behind where each demigod had sat. Around each hole were the ruins of the magic cords, severed by Celestial bronze.

It took me a moment to comprehend what Ethan had done. What… How long had…?

A furious clash of blades and a scream turned my attention back to the fight. Percy had yanked Kronos aside brutally and was pounding at him with Riptide. Behind him, Annabeth used her dagger to deal distraction blows. Ethan was quickly working around them for a better angle. That same open, fierce, daring look shone in his eye.

My brain was still stuck in Ice Age mode and wasn't registering everything, but I saw a fight, recognized my precious, numbing dance and began to get to my feet, ready to join. My place was at his left, I knew, even then. But my fingers became entangled in something.

Brown curls.

I yelped and jumped back, shocked, not realizing I'd fallen next to her. She hadn't moved an inch. Panic lit in my throat and my dance vanished, replaced by that daunting skeleton, only now it held Ethan. Ethan and Percy and Annabeth, two strange kids and one soul I had learned to love over the year, against the demon. Against Kronos. All indications of Luke beginning to take over again had vanished.

I turned from them and knelt beside Brook again, gently pulling the hair from her face. It was sticky and warm with blood. Crimson coated her forehead and was dripping down the side of her pale cheek. She was still warm. The image blurred, and I had to blink tears away in order to see straight enough to cradle her head in my lap. I pet those curls, hands shaking, flinching each time two blades clashed.

Watching Brook hurt as much as watching the fight, so I swapped between the two. Water was flying again. They'd only been fighting for a moment, but there it was, Percy's magic strong and true. Pure, despite the salt I could still taste on my tongue. Kronos had been forced up against the throne of Hephaestus – Vulcan, in his Roman form – and the chair was blaring. _Defense mode activated. Defense mode activated._

They all leapt out of the way, leaving Kronos there, as the chair was lit by a cold blue light. Electricity arched like a stretching cat, all over the place, running up and down Kronos's back. He screamed and dropped his scythe as Percy slammed water against him again.

The whole thing lit with a brilliant blue light, blazing like a fallen star.

Then in an instant, it vanished. Kronos staggered to his feet faster than the electricity had moved and yelled, an angry white flash sending the Olympian demigods sprawling. Then, slipping on the wet floor and the electrical burns evident on his face, he turned towards us once more.

I tightened a hand around Brook's shoulder, growling. Not a damn step closer.

Then Ethan leapt in, coming out of nowhere, that same challenge in his eyes. He had given everything; he dared Kronos to answer to it all. The Titan never saw him coming, nor the sword that landed on the back of his neck.

I had seen blades bounce off Kronos. I had seen both Întuneric and Savior glance off Percy without leaving so much as a scratch. I myself had let my sword land on that same spot on Kronos during out training sessions, putting everything I had into the swings, and had my loyal sword come flying back at me in the rebound.

Not Savior. Savior shattered.

With a sound like a glass bullet being fired, it broke apart, pieces flying in every which way. Kronos turned in surprise. Percy ran up to Ethan, Riptide raised, to back him up. Ethan gasped, eye wide, and staggered back on unsteady feet. A ragged choking sound escaped his throat as he doubled over, clutching his stomach. The telltale glint of bronze flashed against his armor – the shard had gone straight through it and into him.

Ethan stumbled past Percy and finally found some sort of crooked balance, feet spread too wide, still hunched over. Blood ran down his arm where another shard had ripped open the skin. His wide, unguarded eye landed on Percy.

Kronos shouldered Percy aside and stalked forward, growling.

Ethan didn't take his eyes off Percy, as if the approaching threat – or at least his attention to it – was trivial. My stomach twisted and the ice inside melted, even boiled. I tried to say his name, tried to drop Brook and run, but I was stuck.

"They… deserve better," he rasped. The hand on his stomach twitched upwards toward the opening in his jacket. "…If they just had… had thrones…"

"_TRAITOR!"_

Kronos broke. His voice cracked and he screamed, shaking like mad, stomping his foot like a pouting child.

_Now _I moved. I used shadow travel. Percy was already there, but he was slow –

The ground shattered beneath Ethan's feet, the mountain rumbled as it was ripped open, and he fell.

Ah, but no matter what time magic you use, darkness is faster. Even than light.

As he fell I got there, sliding on my stomach and reaching out – he disappeared over the edge, slipping past Percy's fingers, but I leaned over-

-My fingers dug into his wrist, holding him there. My other hand dug itself into the marble. I swear, it was a full minute. It couldn't have been any shorter. Kronos must've seen me grab him, but for some reason didn't react.

It _had _to be longer.

There was the glint of a green eye and the flash of his shattered sword, still buried in his stomach, the cold dark glint of the eye patch. He knew his fate, and he always had.

His hand slipped away from mine, and from my fingers, he fell.

Once he was gone, I went blind. I didn't see the rest of the fall. Something cold rested in my hand in his place, and it was all I was aware of.

Cold. In my hand. So cold it burned. Strange, it felt so solid, as if the emptiness had gained an entity…

"_YOU!"_

The familiar voice snapped me out of it. I jerked my head from the opening in the ground and, leaning heavily on the one hand still on solid marble, turned to see Hunter in the doorway. Her scythe was drawn and her eyes were wild, lost, feral, not unlike her father's as he came apart at the seams. Her gaze was locked on Percy.

I glanced down through the chasm. Ethan had vanished. In my hand was a gun.

Percy scrambled back, feet skidding on the marble, Kronos forgotten. "No – you missed – I didn't-"

Behind me, Kronos laughed. "Tell her, Jackson. Why would you push a wounded demigod off a mountain? Seems a bit paranoid."

Cold claws gripped my heart. She hadn't seen it clearly. She didn't know who'd done it.

"_Hunter, wait!"_

With a battle cry that rang like a klaxon alarm, she shot for his throat.

oOo

Nyx: Look at the chapter title. On Tuesday, September 11th, 2001, Flight 93 was hijacked by terrorists. The pilots were killed, and the suicidal men took control of the wheel, planning to crash the plane into the United States White House.

The passengers, though none of them knew how to fly, rebelled. They took out the terrorists and crashed the plane in a Pennsylvania field, killing themselves and saving Lord-knows how many other lives.

True story. You've probably heard it before. Seemed relevant enough…

*I apologize for having the wrong flight number posted. Words cannot describe how ashamed I am of myself. It was a fact that I'd had 'memorized' for a long time and wouldn't have doubled checked it any earlier than I'd check the mirror to confirm my hair color. American Airlines Flight 93 is the correct flight number.*

Nic: Why is Nico in first person and Ethan in third?

Nyx: Honestly, idk. It just worked that way? I had that in there because he comes in handy for next week's chapters. Once again, I'M SO SORRY! If you can't tell, I hated having to wait to WRITE this chapter, so I have been punished. And am still punishing myself now.

Nic: Dobby, much? *Harry Potter reference. Spelling check?

Nyx: Please tell us what you think. And come back next week. This should end then, or the week following. No later. And yes, I'm POSITIVE on that one.

Nic: *sniffling*

Nyx: Thanks for putting up with me this week. Please review! And stay safe, people. There have been too many deaths, explosions, and rape cases on the news lately. And happy Earth Day.

Hey, listen to a couple Rise Against songs and tell me you don't care…


	50. Revived

**DISCLAIMER: We do not own PJatO or HoO. They belong to Rick Riordan. Who, btw, got the inspiration for Nico from a former student. Ikr? Nico has a NAMESAKE?! New stalking target acquired.**

oOo

It didn't take long for things to go from bad to worse.

Of course, it was just my luck. Oh, sure, we brought down that massive demon planning to charge over us (and squish us all beneath half of his little pinkie toe) and destroy Mount Olympus with one bat of his massive hand. Flushed him down the Hudson like the piece of crap he was! Yeah! Epic time!

No, of course not. Stories of my life never have happy endings like that. False hopes, definitely. Irony? Always follows closely. It haunts me worse than any ghost, because it accompanies every ghost, and every living face I see.

Typhon might be down, but we were all going to die today. I was sure.

I don't know why we were losing. The battle had dragged on so long, it was hard to tell. Certainly not numbers – there were more demons than I'd ever seen before outside of the Underworld, but hey, we had the dead. Skill? Maybe. Smarts? No, our skeletons had enough for this. It was just a mindless, bloody fight. Not too hard to master that state of mind.

Yet here we were. Maybe it was just a balancing act – Typhon dies, the Olympians live. We die, the monsters live. The Fates love those little games they play.

My back was to the barrier. It felt solid as Stygian iron. I stepped back, feeling for it – yes, right there, my boundaries, my rock, my corner. It was the only thing I had to keep track of where I was, because in the turmoil I had lost the borders in the street and been swallowed by the fight, now in its midst, and didn't have the time to turn around and check. Chaos on three sides; wall on one. Chaos in my mind; solid wall beneath my feet.

The chaos was spread wide. I felt it pressing in, burning like the fatigue in my muscles, crowding me, pushing me against the walls so that it hurt. I felt the battle slipping from my fingertips. Death was flitting around everywhere now – on our side, taking our demigods, lighting my tongue with arcane fire and making my ears buzz.

Through the skeletons, I could sense the position of both groups. Both sides. We were pressed against the barrier all around. I could feel, in their minds, the monsters pressing in on every side and closing in, misshapen and putrid as demons tend to be, all rancid breath and snapping teeth and malevolent eyes and claws like scalpels. They came at me, too, but they felt no more or less real than the others. Some alarm in my mind said that this was a bad thing; not because I was paying too much attention to the skeletons (I was hardly paying any) but that I was losing my senses entirely, edging closer and closer to my limits.

Old memories and moves resurfaced subconsciously; my muscles desperately recalled what my mind could not. I dimly saw, more than planned or put into action myself, my sword feign in and my body shift and twirl to one side, then felt my knife catch the demon in the back of the neck as I went straight on to the next. It was a long string of things like this. It all blurs together in my memory. It was quite a fight, and I wish I could tell you more, because it's not something I want to (or want you to) forget. But all great fights are like that.

See, I told you irony follows me.

I saw and felt on so many levels the fall of our armies that day, crushed beneath the force of the monsters. I had lost track of Father long ago. I felt our allies, us as a whole, begin to break. Inside, I saw and felt the signs and knew, I was crumbling. My hands were shaking so badly I couldn't read the numbers on a card had I been holding one. My breath had become short; magic was no longer an option, the mere idea of using it laughable, though I made the notion that when this fight ended it wouldn't be a bad idea to take myself and a few enemies out with a nice blast; my vision and senses were so blurred even the bursts of deaths were hard to distinguish from one another; my skin had become numb and all wounds seemed to have vanished.

Not good signs. I bit my tongue to keep from laughing. _I'm going to die today._

I'm not sure exactly what point it occurred to me, just that it was when things were really bad. Like most things that I noticed at the time, I lodged it somewhere in my brain, and kept going.

I don't consciously recall when the next thing happened, either, but common sense says it happened after I'd made my glorious (and quite stupid; I must've made the notion long ago and then forgotten in the fight, because I wonder why it had taken me so long) realization that my time was up. A sharp, thick, sick fume swamped my senses. I choked and staggered. I dimly recall wondering if I had any deodorant on me; when I met Thanatos, I was going to give it to him.

But he was not here for me yet.

I know because he lingered and I still felt the minds of the skeletons and still felt pained by the mass of live, writhing bodies and had that horrible crack in my throat (caused by his odor, of course) and felt the deep ache of fatigue in my bones. I wished he'd hurry up with whoever he had to work with now, because he was dragging it out so painfully for both me and his unfortunate friend. A friend that should've been fortunate, because ideally, it'd have gone by in a blink, so short the moment between breath and the lack of thereof –

Hot pinpricks shot up the right side of me. I felt them in my mind, too; pressing and tearing and painful beyond belief. Pins with barbs. The molten hooks fought with the fatigued, fight-based half of my mind. They pulled against one another so hard I felt like I was splitting in half, caught in two machines, slowly being pulled apart, bone by bone and little rip by little rip.

The energy built. Then, so suddenly, the issue was settled. The energy was released as if someone had lost their hold on a slingshot. My arm flung out and slammed my dagger so hard into the helm of an ursine demon, the blade punctured the metal with a solid _thunk _and the hilt left a dent.

I abandoned the falling demon and my dagger, whirling on my heel, dodging grasping monsters and racing for the source of the burning pins.

_You shouldn't be doing this,_ the rational side of my mind grumbled.

_Oh, to Tartarus with it!_

As I got closer, I felt it. Just little whispers, touches of someone else's mind to mine. It was bleak. Pained. Confused. It knew it was hopeless, but it resisted all foreign touch, therefore fighting the very death it wished for…

I grit my teeth against the bile that rose in my throat and finally honed in on them – there, up against the barrier, left forgotten and probably assumed dead. I would've thought so, if I couldn't feel the bleak awareness of a dying mind.

I rarely hear the thoughts of someone being called by Thanatos as it happens. Having the whole process dragged out was probably what drew my attention. Nonetheless, I knelt beside the limp and blood-covered heap, not really registering who or what gender or what side. They must've been a demigod, though, because I couldn't sense the death of monsters or nature spirits, and automatons don't die as living things do.

My hand landed on bloody fabric, shaking, and felt until I touched skin. I knew when I did because the muddled thoughts became stronger. I tried so hard to force my own thoughts of peace and cool acceptance on them, but at the time, I could find none; only their own panic, and the chaos of the fight around me. The calm acceptance of my own imminent death was too trivial in the face of so much.

My free hand and the fingers involved fumbled around with my jacket until I found what I was looking for – a small hand of Mythomagic cards. I drew one and held it in front of me. It shook like a leaf in a storm, and it took me forever to make out the name written across it. I actually never read the name – instead, I recognized the picture, for I would know that dog anywhere.

"_Cerberus,"_ I whispered. Giving a mental command would have worked, but I was too tired for magic right then. The card shifted and grew heavier and eventually became another black, sturdy dagger in my hand. It had a heavier tip meant for throwing, but it could work, especially when with Mνήμη, in melee. And especially now. I closed my eyes, found that patch of skin again, and pressed the dagger down until the panicked thoughts stopped and a fresh burst of fleeing life lit my world – this close, the energy was dizzying.

Before I regained my senses, something slammed into my shoulder from behind, sending me crashing into the wall and then onto the body beneath me. That's what woke me up enough to react – landing on it. On them. Fury burst like hot fire in my throat. The dead weren't to be treated like that. It was disrespectful and uncaring and so painful to watch. Oh, I knew it was a battle, and bodies got stepped on. All the time. It was unavoidable.

That didn't mean I had to like it.

I howled and leapt up, lunging for the throat of my assailant. Another demigod. Now that the hot pains of death throes had faded from my mind, the mindless, ever-unsatisfied, instinctive, survival-driven dose of sadism was returning. I felt geared for the fight again, and geared for whatever may happen.

The demigod scowled and ducked, dancing away on nimble feet. I regained mine and spun, cursing myself for forgetting _Cerberus _the dagger, this time lunging without the motive to kill but to feel my opponent. Oh, once I knew them enough, killing them would be easy. Cake.

I moved too fast for them this time. They were knocked aside for a moment. She – I saw it was a girl now – staggered and growled, nearly losing her footing. I took advantage and dove for my knife. As I grabbed the hilt and yanked it free, I tasted the remnants of the fallen demigod – simple things, never an emotion too extreme, the calm will to fight and the small panic of a death. A small sliver of a soul that I would, call it a curse or a blessing as your wont, never forget.

My opponent was already coming at me again. This time, I caught a flash of a purple jacket beneath her armor, matched with Kronos's black clock-and-scythe symbol on one side. Our blades danced around one another. I followed Mνήμη, not sure if it was leading or following her blade. Leading, I hoped, because I felt no insubordination on my part, just the crumpling fatigue somewhere far away by now…

She growled as I knocked her aside again, but I staggered as I lunged for the kill, my right leg giving away temporarily. I scowled – there was a cut there I hadn't noticed before, and it sure wasn't helping – and struggled to regain my feet.

As I did, she turned and called to two of her demigod allies nearby. "Herald! Nick!"

The two of them, one dark-skinned and wielding a sword and the other pale and sporting a bristling spear, leapt to her side without question. They also wore the purple jackets.

I scowled and backed up, brandishing my blades. Mνήμη and Cerberus hummed anxiously as they fanned out and closed in.

Somewhere in my mind, I felt once more the whole enemy surge forward. Our whole front was surrounded, cornered, and as hopeless as I was. The reminder of my death hanging over my head made me smile. Maybe just a little magic, for the sake of spite. Spite, such a sweet thing. It'd saved my sanity many times – I could give it one last tribute.

The small bolt of dark energy I sent at the girl puttered and died feet from my fingers. She scowled and lunged forward, the other two on her heels. Something, some blade – I didn't see whose – dug into my shoulder so deep I felt it through my numb exterior. I grit my teeth to hold back a scream.

But I didn't scream. It wasn't, after all, a hard thing to do, for I knew the fight was already lost.

oOo

Once Eris through the golden apple into the midst of the Olympian goddesses (out of spite, for she had been uninvited to a feast because she was a minor goddess, oh the love of irony), there had been no turning back. Chaos – as in discord, or Eris's realm, not Chaos the goddess herself – was such a hard thing to undo, especially moments after its creation.

Kronos had thrown the golden apple, that one short, venomous retort that confirmed Hunter's false sightings. There was no halting her until she was either satisfied or Percy was dead; I knew because I knew Hunter so well, and because I saw it in her eyes as she slammed into him. No, I can't say we'd been in such a situation before, but it wasn't too hard to figure out.

I was glued to the floor, watching, dry mouth and lips working but lacking the air. She didn't hear me. Their fight had turned into bursts of gold and torrents of water, completely hiding them and their blades. I tried again to call out, all in vain, cursing myself because I knew the cause was already long gone.

Then I felt the cold tip of a blade on the small of my back.

"Do you remember," a cold, shaking voice drawled, "when I told you that you and I were the same?"

Heat began to gather in my chest, warm at first, then uncomfortably hot. I growled and pressed the gun up against the side of the shaft, hiding it from view. "Yeah. Funny, though – I don't ever remember agreeing."

The scythe leapt upward to my neck, shoving my head down. I gasped as my throat was pressed against the sharp lip of golden marble. Air was suddenly scarce. A laugh shook Kronos, a sound that rang like the scrape of knife against rock. "I don't remember you protesting either, child. Look at you. Don't tell me that you've fallen as far as Ethan has."

The wordplay tasted like bile on my tongue. The heat grew worse, an old fire lighting, and until then I wasn't aware of how badly I'd missed it. It was hardly a fire – more like a spark.

And if the spark was scalding, the fire was an explosion.

The spark was something that'd always been a part of me. It had vanished for so long, though, starting when I'd arrived at Mount Othrys. What had suppressed it? Kronos? My new pedigree? Myself? Oh, Hunter had never lost it – the great love for spite, the sweet flames of a rebellion, the strength found in an act of insubordination.

Yet I had never felt it on such a scale. This was not just the thrill of discovering I was in control of myself – yay teen spirit – but something concrete, something oh so solid. There were heaps of kindling for my spark, and I knew as soon as the first lit, that it was not going to die out.

There was his sly words when we'd first met. There was the bright-eyed, dark-haired boy who'd stood up and then died for his beliefs. There was his promise that I was a crooked, twisted, grotesque demon and nothing more, that I was his. There were the treats. There were his taunts over Ethan and Brook. There were his attempts to 'rewire' Hunter and myself. There was the way he'd pushed and shoved, threatened and cornered, poking me with a cattle prod until I consented to let myself stoop to his imaginary demon's level and truly become his monster. There was Brook, lying inert just yards away. There was the gaping hole beneath me, and Ethan somewhere far below.

Forget the heat. There was too much, so much, so solid the atoms were pressed together with no chance to vibrate. This was not petty anger or suppressed jealousy resurfacing. It was solid concrete, a cold, pressed diamond. Too strong to be fire.

At long last, I found that stubborn habit of defying orders just because I could, the thing that teachers used to label me reckless and disrespectful.

Only this wasn't 'just because I could' anymore. It was too big, too hard, too real for that. I had come too far, done so much and too little.

I had touched the dead body of a friend; I had done nothing. I had heard his lies; I had not ironed him hard enough. I had been warned, by past and by present and sick promises of the future; I had not reacted.

But today I stood on a rock. Today I was taken by the cold diamond, the anger and lust for vengeance. Today I felt determined to avenge that body. Today, I would make him choke out every single lie.

It all rang so clear to me then, leaning over the hole my friend had disappeared into. I didn't care where the resolution had been for over a year – in an instant, I was lost in it, only caring that it was there _now._ Something so ancient and so strong held me in its grip. Part of it was me. Part of it was… I don't know. Where do human emotions originate? Where do those of the gods?

Some place powerful, and that's all I know.

As the scythe pressed harder, leaving me completely without air, I knew exactly what magic matched that diamond. Sick of old boundaries, so impressed by their new resolutions that they were convinced they were invincible, knowing they had so many secrets, so many toys yet to reveal…

Not even Kronos could match my best speed.

I wrenched myself free through his shadow looming over me, thrashing until I reached the familiar vast plain. Bright, unfamiliar explosions went off from where Hunter and Percy were fighting. Blazing golden streaks lit as Kronos sped himself up to keep up with me.

Yet I dare you to race your shadow and win when the sun is at your back.

I shot at him with all I had, with the shadows that were the diamond, imagining all my contempt filling him with each strike. I saw him stagger and moved, so fast, like he was stuck in syrup and I on roller blades. I leapt free of the shadows, raised my hand, flicked off the gun's safety-

-And there he was. No longer faster without Shadow Form, he'd seen it. There was a loud _crack _and the gun went flying from my hands, skidding across the room and under an untouched throne.

I don't think he knew what it was, but he wasn't going to take chances. He whirled and sprinted for it, dodging Hunter's scythe and Percy's sword as he passed their battlefield.

I ignored them and leapt into the shadows again, all but howling with triumph and I found that I was still well fast enough.

We slammed into one another, and I left the shadows again as we tumbled, sliding across the golden marble. His hands moved – grabbed my face, my throat, the wrist that held my sword. A knee jammed into my side, knocking my breath free.

I gasped and struck, jabbing Întuneric at him, lighting sparks as the dark metal crashed against his skin. Shadows swarmed around us like angry birds, too big to be bees and too fast and light to be rocks. My left hand reached up, nails scraping against his cheek. Shadows spilled from my fingers.

A harsh growl sounded from him, and an elbow slammed into my ribs. I fell away from him and onto the marble, rolling with the momentum and leaping to my feet. Întuneric was vibrating like mad. Kronos was faster to get to his feet – and faster to charge.

The scythe swung at me like a pendulum, giant curved blade glittering like fool's gold.

But oh so familiar was my dancing partner now.

I swerved to one side and swung Întuneric at the shaft before he could turn, using shadows to speed myself up. Black magic writhed around the scythe for two moments before it burst from the storm cloud, flying at me again.

I scowled and deflected, bringing shadows at him from the side as I did. Instantly, golden whips lashed from his own fingers. I let my feet slide away and dove for his knees. He leapt nimbly into the air, over me, as I rolled to my feet and whirled to face him again.

Întuneric and Backbiter met, grinding against one another unlike they ever had before. Shadows and golden wisps slammed and writhed around one another. I grit my teeth as my arms gave – he was stronger. Time to break out the scary tactics.

The ones he'd taught me, yes. But in reality, a tool is for what you use it for, isn't it? Putting a specific purpose and only that purpose it is like labeling a person with a stereotype. And I'd always hated prejudice.

It'd take up a lot of energy, but he was limited in Luke's body, which is where he seemed to be trapped, as I forced his attention to me; hopefully he'd get tired soon, too.

I slid down, around, and under our blades and felt the ground flex beneath me. Stygian iron shot up like a sprung trap. His scythe cut halfway into it before jolting to a stop – I heard his screech of fury. But I was flying, using my rock as a springboard, twisting to pre-memorized patterns and trusting they'd land me the right way.

As soon as I was far enough, he saw the chance I'd taken – he left his scythe and bolted once more for the weapon he knew we had.

Here's where it began. I laughed, remembering all those lessons, ways to install fear and give yourself an advantage, the ways I kept my mind clear to notice and plan. It all fit so nicely. I shadow traveled to ten feet in front of him, cutting off his run, and throwing shadows out as soon as I solidified. He turned for a side approach, and I spun around, shooting forward and not only using shadows but Întuneric. It slammed into his chest and sent sparks flying. Then he disappeared, blurred, gone with time magic – but not for the gun. For his scythe once more.

That cursed, curved blade shot at me again, him on its heels. He didn't incorporate the acrobatics I had seen Hunter pull, but still danced around his weapon, letting it leave, living by the sword as literally as he could. Well, scythe, actually.

Such a strange dance. Such an invigorating trap.

We danced, one last tribute to our bloody year together. The stakes had never been so high, and blades never so close to my throat – both my own and his. I don't think he'd ever had to take so many hits so fast, either. I prayed that Stygian iron had an effect on him, despite his Curse, though the chances of that were not great.

To drive a dance, there is always music. Without my beat, I was a train wreck, a sight-reader with a brand new instrument and an old memory. I felt hate in his blows like I'd felt in the shadows from Hades; it was in his eyes, too, even more so. Backbiter moved like a true dancer, like flowing water, or a strong and confident predator. Utterly timeless.

Somewhere, Hunter and Percy were still going. But their pattern had changed; I sensed it, but couldn't examine further, for Kronos demanded all my focus.

So starved of attention to his perfection he was.

At one point, as I was leaning back to avoid having my throat scooped out by a crescent blade, I heard a deafening crash and the shriek of metal on invincible skin. I risked a glance – Hunter had cornered Percy against the side of the hearth, sword-like blade at the bottom of her scythe aimed for him, striking twice like a snake and sending him to the marble. Riptide clattered with a sound like shattering glass, like Savior. But it didn't so much as crack.

Then Backbiter was on Întuneric again, stealing my attention.

I heard her, though, searching for his Achilles 'heel'. Her scythe poked. She hadn't heard me before, but now that she had him cornered, did I exist again?

I didn't have much time to consider. Ah, it was one distraction I could not ignore. It's my fault for hesitating. Something slammed into my side so hard I saw stars, my sword vanished from my fingers, and the shadows scattered into oblivion. Hard marble jammed against my shoulder as I hit the ground.

A cold laugh emanated from somewhere. Something jerked on my collar, yanking me to my feet, and a freezing blade leveled with my throat.

I would've used shadows again, but in a moment of panic, I was too slow. Too stunned. Over Kronos's shoulder, I saw Hunter leaning over Percy, who was locked in time. Annabeth was nowhere to be seen. Her gaze was locked on him, scythe prodding roughly, still searching. Fire blazed in her eyes; she was going to kill him. Legitimately stab and destroy the helpless demigod in front of her.

She was going to be that demon Kronos had asked out of me.

_"Hunter, stop!"_

"SILENCE!" Kronos yelled. Something exploded against my face – his fist. I tasted blood and saw stars, suddenly finding myself on the marble floor. He loomed over me, scythe drawn to strike again. Oh, not to kill. Not so fast. Not Kronos.

Then, rather suddenly, someone was between us.

Twin golden gazes locked on one another. "Don't," Hunter growled stiffly, "touch her."

A growl erupted from his chest. "Spare a traitor? Let… Ha! Let…" He cackled madly. At the sight of her standing against him, he finally seemed to sink out of his depth. "Let something taint what I've worked for?! LET all of this be for nothing?" He raised his scythe, indicating the throne room.

"You touch her, I don't hear what she has to say," Hunter countered, her own voice shaking. "It'll mean you're hiding something, and I'll be the next traitor you fight." She was met by silence. "Bree? What were you saying?"

It was on the tip of my tongue. My mouth opened, and my lungs filled with air – then I paused. Would she listen?

Oh so lonely, watching your family ignore you for a year. It'd gotten better recently, but the last time I'd accused her father of murder, it'd ripped open a rift between us that still wasn't completely sealed. In doing so, it'd left a rift in me.

The fire, the diamond, the shadows that were sick of silence were still there. But my connection to Hunter was not.

"Bree," she whispered. Her voice had become choked. It was then that I realized she hadn't been staring at her father – over his shoulder, across the throne room, Brook still lay. Since her hair had been brushed back, you could see the mark on her head where she'd been hit. The sight made my stomach twist.

My lips, seeing my mind distracted, moved on their own and spoke with a hollow voice that wasn't mine. "Percy didn't kill Ethan. Kronos did. Ethan… He turned, but he didn't use the gun…"

"The traitor lies," Kronos growled. "That's all she's ever done, isn't it?"

Her fingers tightened on the shaft of her nameless scythe, nails digging into the wood. "Bree doesn't lie to _me."_

"She'd lie to save her own skin, to anyone," Kronos spat. "Anyone would."

"Including you?"

Silence.

Next to the hearth, Percy gasped, released from Hunter's spell.

"I can prove her wrong!" Kronos yelled, backing up. "What would make Nakamura – Ethan – turn on me? I had no reason to kill him! Ha! Raising a dead crop isn't worth anything, and you know it!"

Her voice lowered, that calm, murderous tone he'd taken with us so many times. "No reason at all?"

"None."

She was quiet for a moment before whispering, one hand flicking towards Brook, "I know that mark better than anyone."

And so the golden apple had a rotten core.

Without further word, she lunged, dancing around her scythe like she'd done it her whole life. Kronos shrieked, a sound worse than the silence of the shattered city, and the cry of their colliding blades followed soon after.

I grit my teeth and made to stand, heart pounding like crazy. I wasn't too sure how it'd happened, who had moved my lips, but there she was, taking my side. Against her father. And he'd kill her in a heartbeat.

I had to help her.

As I reached my feet the room tipped slightly. I cursed and stumbled to my knees, pressing the heel of my hands to my aching temple and cursing Kronos for stealing my breath. My foot slid out behind me and touched something lightly.

I frowned. That hadn't been the solid throne…

I turned and there, glinting softly like a shy schoolchild waving from the street, was the gun. The safety was still off.

Oh, thank the gods!

My hungry fingers lunged for it and fiddled with the handle. The trigger was cold and slippery as ice beneath my fingertips. My heart was pounding like crazy, a war drum broken and panicking, aching and missing its familiar beat. Crying for it to come back and lead once more.

Yet this gun was all I had left.

Did I fire it? Did I end it all there?

I had no choice. I couldn't. Kronos and Hunter were dancing now, faster than my eyes could follow, just two golden blurs flitting around like the flames of a candle, next to me one moment and then across the room the next. Annabeth had become visible again, helping Percy to his feet. A discarded Yankees cap lay on the ground beside them. Thalia and the satyr were still bound, and Brook… And Brook…

I howled and cursed myself for not being able to shoot. Yet if I tried, chances were with my luck I'd end up killing Hunter.

Yet leaving Kronos to kill her wasn't an option, either. Which left just one.

I clenched the gun tightly as my gaze landed on Brook again, then moved to Hunter. She'd heard me before, but that was after the fight with Percy was over and she stood on top… If I called now, would she hear me?

Would my sister resurface for me when I needed her?

I didn't wait long to find out. "Hunter!"

And there it was. She slowed just a little, sending a questioning glance my way, almost pleading.

My arm flew back, then forward in an effortless throw, the gun so light compared to that textbook. Unless Hunter could magically shrink, it'd hit her in the face. Probably break her nose, and we'd all be screwed. Again.

Her hand flashed out, snatching the gun out of the air. I heard as it was cocked from where I sat, a sound as bold and shocking as lightning, slamming into every surface and echoing dangerously. The gunshot was even louder.

It was a sound like fireworks, banging in my chest like a kick drum too close. The bullet, a fizzing blue streak, shot out towards her father in with a glorious, blazing tail in its wake.

He cursed and sidestepped, dancing out of the way. The honing bullet shot past him indifferently and through the throne room's doors, our best hopes flying off the side of a mountain like a tortured bird finally set free, soaring off into the clouds without a single care in the whole wide world.

oOo

**Nyx: So I feel stupid today.**

**Nic: ?**

**Nyx: I saw Troy for the first time, and looked up Iliad to confirm what I saw. Wasn't until then that I fully understood the story between Clarisse and Selina. I wonder how many other subplots are like that, mirroring old stories…**

**Nic: *Don't watch Troy at home unless you're allowed to watch R movies***

**Nyx: Anyway, I'm hoping this chapter doesn't start a riot somewhere, because my stomach hurts and I don't want to deal with it. So if you have something to say, put it in a review, please! Next chapters will be up SOON – I know I've expressed a love of cliffhangers, but I don't like having our climatic moments broken up too much. They will be up pretty quick, unless something unexpected comes up.**

**Nic: *busy laughing at guy that got beat with a burning torch in Troy***

**Nyx: Correction; they'll be up pretty quick unless Nic gets any unexpected impulses to role play any action movies.**


	51. Rebels

**DISCLAIMER: Rick Riordan owns PJatO and HoO, not us.**

**NOTE: Nyx apologizes for this being late. Her stomach ache got worse and she spent a nice few hours hiding under the covers on her bed waiting for the painkillers to kick in. They did, and she's better now. Hence the update.**

oOo

"_No!"_

I don't know who cried out. Me? Hunter? It could've been Nico, for all the awareness I had. I was shocked, frozen, lost.

It was gone. No sword, no beat, no sharp words of hard-learned wisdom to guide us. It was just Hunter and I against a Titan, who surely would soon earn enough time to take his true form. If the Olympians were going to show up, they'd have done so by now, and even if they did I didn't think they'd spare us.

I glanced at Percy and Annabeth, both of whom looked like they'd been through a forest of brambles and falling trees and flying rocks – all backwards, blindfolded, and hindered by earplugs. The son of Poseidon grabbed his sword and stepped forward still, like an automaton, fixed to its task until it was killed.

Hunter and I were alone, despite his efforts.

I leapt to my feet again, leveling Întuneric. I stumbled, regained my footing through gritted teeth and uttered curses, and ran to join the fight.

oOo

My bold declaration of irony's love for me – ha, and it's irony in itself, because is it love or hate in the end? – still stands.

So long I had run from demons, demigods, and humans alike. I'd known long ago that the latter two can be so much more violent. Not that I'd seen the worst of demons yet (I hadn't gotten close enough to Typhon to claim that), but of what I've seen, humans destroy more things than demons do, and by far more lives.

And here I was, all that running a futile effort, for now I faced someone part god, part human, and part demon.

Oh, I'm sure she was a half-blood. But her mind was that of a demon. A sadistic, powerful one that wasn't after food but after fun. Not sportsmanlike fun, either. Not a dog hunting quail, but a cat playing with a mouse. Mischievous blue eyes glinted – she had lost her helm – through ragged, messy dark blonde bangs. Her purple jacket was torn and ripped, and some of her armor had become crooked. It seemed to bug her, as if she couldn't stand to appear less than perfect, though the last goddess I'd guess she was related to was Aphrodite.

"Taylor, we're needed elsewhere," said the dark-skinned boy named Herald. Oh, I laughed, shaking my head. She knew that. We all knew that. She just wanted to be here more, and what she wanted was worth more than what everyone else needed. Why speak when it was so futile?

My outburst earned me a sharp glance from the dark-haired Nick, who was using the broken end of his spear to keep me in place, prodding at my shoulders every time I made to step away from Kronos's barrier. Or tried. I had been smacked and battered in so many places, it was hard enough to tell up from down while standing still. Though part of that might have been the madness of the desperate, dying battle.

Still, my mind made plans. If I could try once more, and taunt him closer, he'd easily be within striking range, and if I aimed it right I'd only have two more to kill-

"Kronos might want this one alive," Taylor snapped back, leveling her sword.

Oh, now what was this? She wasn't afraid to toy with me, yet I wasn't worth killing? What kind of sick game was this?

"You coward," I spat. Gods, people can be so aggravating. Mνήμη twitched and jerked angrily. Or maybe that was just my hand.

She saw the dark sword and scowled. "Care to say that again?"

"You're a coward," I rasped. "_Scared._ Squeamish."

"My father," she spat between heavy breaths, "is the god of fear. I am not _scared."_

The tone of her voice made me smile. "Suit yourself."

She howled and lunged forward, shouldering Nick aside and raising her sword for my throat.

I slipped to the side and met her strike with Mνήμη, then dove in as fast as my legs would work for her own neck. Hey, if you live by the sword, you're going to die by it, so you might as well enjoy every minute of both.

Before either of us made another move, something lit across the sky.

It stole our attention like a chocolate cake sitting among vegetables at a buffet. A vibrant blue streak shot across the dark sky. It glittered and sparkled and shot sparks in every which way, strong enough to light the towers and demons and armor in a dazzling bright sapphire, before appearing to burn out and disappear in thin air.

I glanced at the Empire State Building, so calm and stoic. Surely, that wasn't from Olympus? How would it have wound up all the way down here?

Then, as if its glory had never contained an interlude, the spark burst to life again.

The whole sky, around the top of the Empire State Building's needle all the way across the street and around us in all directions, the air erupted with explosions. My mind went into utter shock, too stunned to even panic.

Every color was in every single space. Reds and blues and greens and golds and purples and whites and indigos and colors I couldn't name in my dazed state. They were loud, popping and bursting, shrieking and groaning. The explosions thudded solidly in my chest.

_…Fireworks?_

Fireworks, from Olympus? Heck, who was up there to light the match?

Somehow I doubted this was Kronos celebrating a victory.

I stared at the wonder, mesmerized, trying to connect fireworks to battle. It didn't click. These breath-taking, blazing flowers had no purpose, no reason, they were just _there…_ Perhaps they were bombs…

Taylor snapped me out of it. It wasn't until then that I realized I had let myself be distracted so easily. I wasn't the only one – monsters were still gawking, along with most of our demigods.

But not the Titan ones.

Taylor, yeah. But I saw her jump an whirled – Herald, undaunted by the light show, was standing above the bloody body of his friend Nick. In his hand, glistening with crimson, was a knife.

What…?

I glanced around, and I saw it – some of the Titan demigods were still going, unfazed, launching a coordinated attack and completely oblivious to the show.

Or maybe not so oblivious.

The fireworks show must've been a signal.

I tried to count, but my mind only got an estimate – many, half, no, over half of the Titan demigods were in on it. Some secret passed around, warnings to expect it, a whole plot to let the rest of the battle freeze in shock and take advantage…

…But it wasn't a signal to attack us.

Like Herald, every demigod who'd taken the signal for what it was had turned on their allies.

"_Traitor!"_ Taylor howled, and leapt at Herald.

I was still blinking, wondering what on earth had just happened. A rebellion? Among Kronos's armies?

Unheard of.

Herald gave Taylor a wide, gleaming smile. "Sorry, sweetheart. I ain't nobody's mutt."

Around us, the fight had leapt into action again. Bodies surged and heaved, gleaming in the ever-changing strobe lights from above. Reinforced by the Titan rebels, our side thickened, daring to step away from the barrier. The skeleton's excitement and confusion flooded my mind, and I saw it happening everywhere – every side of the building, every front. There were so many. And the monsters were falling back… Dying…

There was a pained shriek, bringing me back to myself. Herald had sliced open Taylor's arm. I reached out, ready to hold her back, but I stumbled and she was faster – she dove around the side, knocked his blade out of the way, and plunged her blade through the side of his neck. Herald choked and, wide-eyed, slid to the blood-soaked concrete.

"Who's the coward now, turncoat?" she spat at him.

The fight was swirling around, clicking into place. As I came out of my daze, her words sparked an old memory, and my lips moved without my permission. "Don't play that game. The dead can't hear you speak."

Her furious blue eyes locked on mine. "What?"

Oh, but things were changing. Whoever had started the rebellion, they had done a great job. The rhythm of the fight was altering, its direction changing, the whole thing shifting and turning and clicking into a new position, much like that cursed Labyrinth. New tunnels opened. New air rushed in. The scent of blood and death lit the air, thick among the sweet firework smoke.

The monsters were being driven back. I could feel it, every inch of the receding tide. New hope, new thoughts, all rushing in at once. The aches and pains all over seemed to vanished, washed away by the fresh tide, and with it my peace with my death. The new beat dominated my mind. The fast-paced, ravenous, battle-high feeling crept into my limbs again.

There was Herald; dead, a spirit at peace (I could easily tell) at her feet. He'd been my comrade a second ago.

It was the last rational thought I had.

I screeched and lunged for Taylor, sword slamming to hers. The great excitement of the skeletons filled my limbs and the horrible drive of the fight was teeming in my mind and she didn't stand a prayer.

Her sword skidded on the concrete and into the writhing masses. More demigods, less monsters. They were starting to retreat. I lunged again, nicking open her side. She yelped and ran, barely avoiding a more deadly cut, eye wide in panic.

I laughed. Oh, this game, so unique. Cat and mouse, hm? Would she like it by the time I was done?

She saw her allies retreated, cast me one last pleading glance, and ran.

Oh, like Hades. Cat and mouse. One of the most entertaining chases ever, so classic, so simple. Normally, I'd have let a coward live, watch them retreat and know the guilt would scar them deeper than any sword.

But she had played with me; she had killed Herald; she had played games, and right then, I was too charged to lack a target. A cat too hyper to resist sinking its claws into something. The battle was ours once more; should I not revel in the moment? She was the closest one.

I sprinted after her and leapt, driving Mνήμη into her shoulder for balance. She screamed and toppled under my weight. We didn't roll but skidded across the asphalt for a few feet. She didn't fight it.

I leaned forward, pressing, waiting, until I heard a _snap _and the scent of death flooded my tongue. I let her go – she sagged against the ground, head bent at a strange angle, a ragdoll filled with shattered glass – and leapt for the next target. Another retreating demigod, one not included in the rebellion.

I swerved around him and pounced on a demon, smiling as my sword sank into its scaly flesh. It sent happy chills up my back and made my fingers itch for more. The rebuilt army surged behind me like the tide or the intruding memories of a ghost – all the skeletons, seeing all the new demigod allies running about like poisonous ants in a beetle's nest – and drove the madness of a battle nearly won to the sweet extremes.

Mνήμη and I took great pleasure in it, as every soldier did in those mindless moments.

oOo

Hunter and I were alone; but that's not to say _I _was alone.

I felt is we danced, that string of unity I'd noticed between all four of us before, still connecting us both. Maybe I was without a beat or the war drums or the gun, but I had this.

She was familiar, but it was hard to follow her lead. With a start, I realized Kronos had rarely had us fight with one another against him in our training sessions. _Was this why?_

No. If he'd foreseen a rebellion, a rebellion wouldn't have happened at all.

They carved themselves paths around their scythes, and I carved my way around them. Întuneric and I seemed to be more united with one another, but dodging those blades (particularly Hunter's extra one) was challenging.

Luckily, I had the shadows, as exhausting as they were becoming.

Kronos didn't seem to be growing tired, though. As his blade hit mine and swung through the empty air inches from my head, I felt it, his own diamond, his own hard fury. He was (forgive my wording) human, too. And like my own brilliant revelation and newfound, angry resolve, he found new motivation in that dangerous reserve.

The Titans, much like the gods, had always had their own human characteristics. This was one of his, for it was a purely human thing.

That meant it was one of mine as well.

Percy joined in at one point. He seemed to burst into existence beside me, smelling strongly of saltwater, Riptide taking its own vicious arcs. An angry screech lit the air as the sword raked down Kronos's back.

The Titan whirled, snarling and brought his scythe down hard. I ducked beneath the shaft and lunged – as Percy dodged I rammed into Kronos, but he was hard as a rock. Întuneric did not shatter, but something in my wrist did. I screeched and leapt back, switching my sword to my left hand (thank you, lovely grandfather Kronos, for teaching me how to fight with both hands) and moved to the side as Hunter shot by, swinging around her scythe.

Something warm started in my wrist. I frowned at it. It was glowing green. Then I saw the ground beneath – grass had started to grow in the marble's cracks. I glanced back at the satyr, but though his pipes were shattered, he was chanting a spell. It was affecting Percy and Hunter, too. The girl at his side was scowling, holding a dagger, looking like she was furious at being left out.

Annabeth had cut them free.

I yelled, a little spark, a triumphant, spiteful, doomed little cry of thrill, and leapt back into the fight. Kronos was trying to smash the tired Percy in the face with his scythe – his blade met Întuneric, and his gaze met mine.

He spat a furious, profane word and yanked his scythe back to strike. It was caught by Hunter's blade.

His own battle cry cut through my ears like a knife, and he began to move faster. Golden magic was swirling around ominously.

I resorted to shadows again. I worked around him, firing well-aimed blasts, and leaping in with Întuneric when he was distracted by one. My wrist had healed (I didn't know satyrs could do that until then). Now and then, I used Stygian iron, performing a move it'd taken Ethan ages to get me to perfect – I shot overhead, firing as I went, and then charged in with Shadow Form when I landed in hopes of overwhelming the enemy. Black energy exploded against the marble and his invincible skin. Not a hairline fracture appeared in the latter, but by the way the former was looking, we were all about to fall though with Ethan.

Golden magic burst into reality, slamming into Percy. The son of Poseidon fell to the marble once more and leapt to his feet – but his sword was gone.

It skidded across the marble and fell through the hole Ethan had disappeared into, and with a last glint of metal, it was gone.

Kronos turned, as if he wasn't worth his attention, back to harassing Hunter.

Annabeth, invisible again – her Yankees cap had vanished as well – was who-knows-where. Hope she wasn't near Kronos.

"Hunter, move!" I called, already starting the spell. My fingers twitched and Întuneric buzzed, and the floor at my feet grew warm. Hunter knew what I was doing – she moved.

I stabbed the tip of Întuneric into the ground and the spell seemed to explode to its full glory. The heat ran through me like thousands of merciless teeth. Percy yelled and scrambled back.

Yet the teeth weren't just mine.

I could feel them in Kronos – or Luke, seeing as it wasn't Kronos's body – gathering and stabbing the same way they were to me. The Titan nearly dropped his scythe and grit his teeth, coming to a sudden standstill. His skin began to inch towards red.

Oh, he was invincible. But like Percy, we was vulnerable to pain.

I kept going, actually able to feel my energy level plummeting like a rock in water. I was shaking dangerously, but I kept pushing on, letting our blood boil. I tried to dump the spell more heavily on him, but it was hard, and the further I went the harder it was to tell who was who.

Someone screamed. I don't know who it was. The heat was like I'd been thrown into a volcano. I saw red, red crossed with dancing black dots.

Another voice rang out; not mine or his, but a triumphant yell, and something slammed into Kronos. The impact broke the spell. I gasped and shuddered at the freezing wind and collapsed onto the marble. It was nice and cold, and rather soft…

Something clattered loudly to the ground next to me. I cracked open an eye to look. It was Backbiter. Before I could react, Percy grabbed it and flung it over me – into the hearth. There was an explosive sound of flames and for a moment everything was outlined in red. The logs and coals burst with fire, and heat seared along my back. I flinched, now twice shy.

The fire died down after a moment and I dared look again, panting, still shaking – but I could see. There stood Hunter, backed by Percy, above Kronos. He was on his knees and hunched over, hands grasping his crossed arms desperately. His blonde hair was ragged and hung limply.

And he made no move to defend himself.

"Wait!" Annabeth yelled. "Luke!"

Kronos thrashed and twisted, screeching like a wild animal. His hands clawed at the marble and the muscles in his arm flexed and relaxed, flexed and relaxed, fighting something.

Annabeth burst into existence beside me, her Yankees cap falling to the ground. "Luke! You promised!"

He jerked himself up, staring at her with wide, terrified blue eyes. His face was ragged and a horrible look of pain dominated his features when he saw her. He looked broken, shattered, but so very much alive. His voice was familiar, but it lacked the sharp, metal-on-metal edge Kronos had sported. "…Annabeth! …You're hurt…"

I stared, shocked and horrified. His tone matched his looks, and he was so young… Twenty, maybe, no older than the Hecate kid. Right then, if I could've reached out, I would have.

Luke jumped and his neck jerked, his hands twitching, fingers trembling. A pained cry escaped him. "Don't come closer!"

Hunter looked shocked, not knowing what to do.

"…Luke…" she rasped, eyes wide and brimmed with tears.

"NO!" Kronos screamed. His eyes glazed over in gold. "KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!"

He jerked and twisted again, and Luke reappeared, blue eyes still filled with horror. "Help – he's changing… His true form…" He retched and clutched his head, squeezing his eyes shut, and screamed.

"Percy," Annabeth whispered. "The cursed blade. From the Prophecy."

"Annabeth," Percy said, eyes locked on Luke. "Give me your knife."

She set it on the ground, not inches from my hands. She gave me a glance, then kicked it away, letting it skid across the floor to tap Percy's sneakers impatiently. He picked it up and held it carefully, taking a tentative step forward.

Kronos's laugh sliced through the air, making me flinch. His eyes were gold – I could tell, despite the colors being blurry. Then those golden eyes were drowned out – he began to glow, a sharp gold. I squeezed my eyes shut.

Luke spoke, his voice cracked and ravaged. "You can't… You can't do it yourself. He'll break control. He'll defend himself. Only… Only my hand. I know where. I can keep… I can keep him controlled…"

Silence. Hand Kronos a knife?

"Don't give it to him," Hunter whispered. "He'll kill us."

"Please," Luke groaned. "We don't have time." There was a sharp smack – he'd jerked and hit something on the marble – and he screamed again.

The sound was like knives on my spine. I cracked my gaze open, to stare at this strange boy I'd lived with but never known, never thought of. The boy Kronos had sworn was dead. Percy stood above him with a knife.

But the son of Poseidon hesitated. He blinked once, twice, an lowered the knife.

He handed it hilt-first to Luke.

The satyr cried out. "Are you crazy?!"

Luke took the blade, undid a strap of his armor, and held it against a small patch of skin beneath his left arm. He hesitated, shaking. His skin had started to smoke. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and cut himself.

It wasn't bad – even I could tell – but he screamed. The light seemed to explode around him, shining like the sun. I cried out and closed my eyes again, then covered my head as the room began to shake. A sound like an explosion went off. Somewhere, marble crashed and cracked. Heat was everywhere – worse than the spell I'd used, but form the outside. I hoped Brook was okay.

Then, without warning, it stopped. The room was tense with silence.

I heard someone move to my right and peeked. It was Percy. He'd fallen when the explosion went off. He got to his feet and jogged to Luke's side. The blonde was lying sprawled on his back in a circle of ash.

On my other side, Hunter shifted. She coughed and spat ash out of her mouth, blinking it out of her eyes. It was then that I saw beyond her, the hearth was smoking. Backbiter had turned to molten drips.

"Good… blade," Luke croaked.

Hunter climbed to her knees and held out her hand. I licked my cracked lips and took it, letting her haul me to my feet. The room spun for a moment. Then her arm appeared around my shoulder and the world steadied itself.

Annabeth and the satyr hobbled over, the latter hauling Thalia with him. Luke was speaking softly to Annabeth, and she to him. I saw him lying there, the man who'd been Kronos and the boy who'd been behind closed doors for so long, bloody and pale and face marked with ash. The moment felt too private, too significant, for my attention. I turned away and left them to their goodbyes.

Hunter dragged us over to where Brook still lay on her side, unscathed save the mark on her head. The sight made bile rise in my throat and my hands shake. Hunter let go of me and I slid to my knees in front of her. She stepped over Brook gingerly and knelt down, cradling her head in her lap. Brown curls tangled in her fingers.

Ethan's name made me turn. It was the only thing that could've penetrated the thick fog of exhaustion and dread. I turned. Luke had said it, talking to Percy, his hand tightly gripping the dark-haired boy's sleeve.

Percy nodded and promised something. Luke didn't speak again.

After a few minutes of tense silence, filled only with Annabeth's sad cries, Percy glanced at us. Then he turned to the satyr. "Go help them."

"Help… them?" the satyr asked, eyes darting towards us nervously.

"Yes," Percy said softly, holding Annabeth to his chest.

The satyr looked at us fearfully, then at Percy, then got to his hooves and trotted over. He waved shyly as he got closer. "H-hi. I'm Grover." He knelt down next to me. Hunter narrowed her eyes at him. "I… I'm here to help." He reached tentatively for Brook.

Hunter placed one hand protectively between them, growling.

"I kn-now healing magic," Grover said, cowering.

"Can you work it without your flute thing?" she said tensely.

"Not as well," he admitted. "I have a little nectar, too…"

Hunter shook her head. "Don't waste that on us."

I flinched. Right. The world was saved, but the three of us were screwed.

Grover was to my left. As had become habit when I was unsure, I turned to my right. But Ethan wasn't there. That's when it hit me for the first time. Seeing his accustomed place filled by air.

I felt his fingers on mine again, heard the great sound of Savior as it shattered, remembered a sharp tongue and the day he'd saved us from China and when Herald had attacked and the Halloween party and the day we'd turned Herald into a cat. I remembered him the night he'd told me of his father and his wish to be nameless. I remembered him offering me chess lessons. I knew what he'd have said about the fight; _At the end of the game, the moves and strategies are much simpler, but the stakes are higher. You have to pay attention…_

Standing up for what's right seemed simple enough, until it wasn't. And it was complicated until he'd made it simple again.

A single sob escaped me. Then Grover's mumbled singing cut off and Hunter gasped. My heart felt like it'd burst under any more strain, but still it raced as I turned. Brook coughed and stirred, little fingers twitching, her long lashes fluttering. Grover smiled sadly and leaned back.

I leaned forward, taking his place, my shaking fingers landing in hers. She made a small sound of surprise and opened those bright silver eyes. "Hm…?"

"For the love of the Styx," Hunter sighed, a small, hysteric laugh shaking her shoulders. A small smile crossed her face. "Hey there, sleeping beauty."

Brook smiled at the sound of Hunter's voice, but didn't speak. Was she too afraid to ask, or could she not yet remember the reason to?

Footsteps sounded outside. It sounded like an army approaching, thunderous taps that ran over each other, tumbling over the rubble like a river. Someone shouted an order in a deep voice. Complete and utter dread landed in my stomach, but until they got closer, I was just too tired to care.

Grover glanced at us, then got up and hurried back to Thalia.

Hunter's gaze met mine, grim determination swimming in her irises. Yet there was something else; a strange light I'd never seen from Hunter before. Yet I could name it.

"I'm sorry, too," I rasped, rubbing my arm. It felt cold in here after so much heat.

She smiled and turned back to Brook, who had lifted her head at the sound of the Olympian's approach.

They burst through past the broken doors to skid to a panicked halt. They were human-sized, a mess of different people and styles. All wore armor. The man in the lead held a metal rod and had a big black beard that rivaled the Robertson clan.

The man behind him – carrying a trident, and had a cropped but shaggy beard – shoved past and stared at the scene with wide green eyes. In the crowd, a thin man with a pointy nose and carefully combed hair, a sword wrapped in live snakes in his hands, choked. It almost sounded like a sob.

"Percy," the green-eyed man said, raking his shocked gaze across the throne room. "What… What is this?"

Poseidon. The man with the metal rod – oh, beg the Fates for mercy – was Zeus. His gaze found us and bored into Hunter, shocked and hostile. Sparks ran up the metal stick.

I glanced at Hunter, and she shook her head. I didn't really need to be told, though, that we weren't going to put up a fight. Ethan was dead, we had made our choices, and there was no fighting our fate now. We'd chosen our path fair and square.

Our fate belonged to the Olympians now, and we all knew it was a short one.

oOo

**Nyx: I really am so sorry! X/ I know it's not fair to you for me being late, no matter what happens, especially now! My morning was spent trying to choke down some food so I could take painkillers, and then waiting for them to kick in. Luckily I didn't get vomit or anything. Anyway, I'm up now, and the next chapter will be soon!**

**Nic: WOOT!**

**Nyx: Ugh. We've come so far in such a short time with this book… **

**Nic: The next chapter is the last, save the epilogue! We will explain particulars then. The epilogue will contain the special thanks and such in the Authors' Note. Feel free to yell/talk/take aim at us through a review! ALL FEEDBACK is greatly appreciated!**

**Nyx: Can't wait to wrap this up… It's come so far in these three years. And this is just book one! Can't tell you how much fun I've had writing it…**

**Nic: Save it for the closing thing. **

**Nyx: Okay… **

**Nic: Your breath smells like Wintergreen. Have you been binging on Altoids again?**

**Nyx: No! …Okay, maybe I grabbed a can after lunch….**

**Nic: And how many are left there?**

**Nyx: One, two… 17.**

**Nic: Out of the original…**

**Nyx: …75….**

**Nic: Dang, you're getting better at restraining yourself. Last time you ate the can in thirty minutes.**

**Nyx: Heh…**

13


	52. Paradoxes

**DISCLAIMER: We do not own PJatO or HoO! Rick Riordan does! Interesting fact; he has never seen the movie and never will, nor Sea of Monsters. He prefers to keep his characters as they are, untainted by a cast or another person's voice. Yay stalker-mode! (No, not really – it's written on his website.)**

oOo

_He said, "Son, have you seen the world?_

"_Well, what would you say if I said that you could?_

"_Just carry this gun and you'll even get paid…"_

_I said, "That sounds pretty good."_

I turned to my right, ready to ask Ethan if Luke and Kronos had recruited him in a similar way. But nobody sat on the bench beside me. I flinched and turned away, clicking the volume up on my iPod, trying to drown out a storm of thoughts and emotions.

Brook sat on my left, clinging to Hunter, who sat on her other side and had an arm reached out around us both. Her hand felt warm.

Our guards remained stoic and silent. They were dressed in silver and armed with matching bows and arrows. And every single one was female. Thalia led them – Apollo had healed her, supposedly, and she was instructed to go easy and use crutches for a few days. Though something told me she wasn't going to be hindered by them much if we tried to make a break for it.

This prison didn't look much like a prison, either. It was a park, the closest one to the throne room(therefore the farthest from escape) and decorated with lush grass, thick and proud trees that had strong, rich brown bark, and dozens of dozens of flowers. They were red and blue and white and purple and gold and pink, all sporting different designs and giving the air a strong perfume smell. It punctured the thick aroma of ash, sweat, and blood just enough to make itself known. Quiet but firm and unmoving. A soft, gentle breeze went through. Dryads were going back and forth, walking around the pond where naiads playfully squirted them with water. A few demigods milled about, the ones from the infirmary, exploring the new land Olympus had become. They averted their gazes from us.

Nobody had taken our weapons, but we had put them away. Resistance was futile in so many ways.

"You know that we can always say Kronos tricked us, right?" Hunter told us. "He did."

Brook shook her head. "Don't lie to yourself. We made our own choices, and they know it." Her voice was flat, but not for our impending doom – breaking the news of Ethan's death had been among the hardest things Hunter and I had ever done.

I tried so hard once more to avoid glancing to my right, and failed.

"You made the choice to fire the gun."

We turned to Thalia, shocked. Of course she'd been listening, but she was the kind of girl – we could tell already – who did it formally for orders or turned away and ignored conversations she knew she wasn't meant to hear. And I certainly hadn't expected her to interfere.

She spoke without turning to face us. "Brook chose to quiet Annabeth so Luke could remain in control of Kronos longer. Ethan chose to attack him. Bree chose to after that, and to attempt to use the gun. Hunter decided and succeeded to fire it."

"Great lot it did," Hunter spat. "It would've been so much faster. Painless."

Now Thalia turned, giving her a puzzled glance. "What?"

"It was Ethan's idea," Brook explained. "He and Herald – and supposedly a few others – made the bullet. He never told us the specifics, because we were too close to Kronos, but he made it clear; the gun would end Kronos. We had no idea how, but it would."

"And just my luck, I finally get the courage to shoot the son-of-a-hellhound, and I miss," Hunter muttered.

"…You missed? It didn't look like that to me," Thalia snorted. Her bright blue eyes literally held sparks.

"I missed," Hunter spat. "You saw what Luke and Kronos went through."

"Ethan never told you the specifics, right?"

"Right," I sighed, and gave up resisting. I stared at the empty spot to my right until tears blurred my vision.

"You didn't watch the screen, did you? The one Kronos had playing the battle below on Fifth Avenue, and all around the building?"

"We were a little preoccupied," Hunter said dryly.

_A hero of war, yeah that's what I'll be._

_And when I come home, they'll be damn proud of me._

_I'll carry this flag to the grave if I must,_

_Because it's a flag that I love,_

_And a flag that I trust…_

Thalia clucked and shook her head. "That gun wasn't meant to hit Kronos itself. It was a signal. It set off fireworks above the fight."

Hunter and I locked gazes for a moment, before hers flitted to meet Brook's. Memories of the fight over the ship were ringing in my head. "…Fireworks?"

"Yeah. Most of the Titan monsters – and our demigods – were too shocked to do more than stare. But most of the Titan _demigods _– Ethan's friends, I'm guessing – acted like they knew it was coming. And when it did, they changed sides. They turned on the monsters and helped the Olympian demigods chase them away. I can't say what would've happened on Olympus if you hadn't fired, but down on the ground, everyone would've died. All the Olympian demigods, and the humans unlucky enough to be in New York after them. You have no idea how many lives you saved."

Hunter laughed, a sharp, hysteric sound. "Saved? I saved lives, yet Ethan isn't here? How ironic is that?"

"It's suspicious, though," Thalia muttered. "If you feel that way, the Olympians might find it pretty fishy that all those demigods that hated them randomly turned. They had incentive to destroy Olympus – where'd they get the incentive to _save _it?"

We were silent. Those demigods had no incentive to save Olympus, and no intent. Hunter had broken the rules. She'd fired while Olympus still stood – all those brave rebels were under the impression that Olympus had fallen. They thought they were taking their own side, and no one else's.

Great. More lives we had screwed up.

"So long the gods don't ask, I don't see reason to tell them, though," Thalia said. Hunter glanced at her. The dark-haired girl smirked and turned away, impatiently tapping her bow.

It was silent for a long while after that. For once, I didn't like it. I would appreciate it later, but right then, the last thing I wanted was an opportunity to relive everything. That skeleton was back, and closer than ever. Ethan's blood dripped from its yellow, crooked teeth.

Why did it insist on torturing me like this, when I was already a lost cause? I might as well already be dead… I shuddered and reminded myself that I wasn't just yet; and this was how the horrors of war worked. They were there until the end.

_You can go now,_ I told the skeleton. _I'm never going to forget._

It wasn't satisfied with that. It kept dancing.

Brook sighed and drew her legs up on herself, hugging them tightly. Percy had insisted we be healed and detained until the Olympians could speak about our fate and interview witnesses to our fight. He'd been solid as a rock as he stood there, demanding that we be treated the way we were, shaking from exhaustion. Shaking but solid. Immovable.

So the scar on Brook's head was gone, and right now, the son of Poseidon and his friends – including my brother, I had been informed by a pouting nymph who disapproved of his presence to the point of loudly telling her friends – were negotiating reforms, rewards, and other political things. It never had mattered to me before, politics. Now that I was being judged, though, I truly feared them.

Such a dangerous game, politicians played. Part of me was glad I couldn't participate in it – for that game, however it was played, looked like it easily made fools of its players.

_I kicked in the door, and yelled my commands._

_The children, they cried, but I got my man._

_We took him away, a bag over his face,_

_From his family and his friends…_

Staring at the barren city was horrible. All the rubble, all the remains, sometimes not just of buildings but of heroes and minor gods and nymphs. But the anthill was alive; so many living things had returned, swooping in on the dying city and breathing life back into it one by one, clearing away what they could and gathering the materials to rebuild. They refused to be eliminated entirely.

We had helped to do it. Ach, but at the time, I'd been so sure I was doing my best… Now, though, I was not so sure. The skeleton danced and clacked happily, reinforcing the idea.

We sat there in silence, enjoying one another's company. The same song replayed several times on my iPod. I didn't have the heart to lift my hand and change it.

oOo

Don't ask me how long it was. I don't know. I had never needed to keep track of time around Hunter, and the skeleton liked to sap away the hours an draw them out randomly as was its wont.

A man came up, still dressed in armor. His nice hair was ruffled slightly. His crinkled eyes were rimmed with red. He was in his forties, or so it seemed, and looked like he'd been jogging since he was negative five. Strong, long legs made for running. Not too far from Ethan, though the latter was skinner. I flinched. Not was – _had been._

He was clearly intending to speak to us, striding across the park with purpose. He hesitated halfway through and stared, as if troubled. I kept track of him through sideways glances carefully disguised, having confidence that I could do that much and go unnoticed in turn. Once I caught him talking into a cell phone. Two snakes swirled around the antenna.

_"Now_ you show up," Thalia muttered when she caught sight of him.

"The Olympians were hindered on their way in. Prometheus and other Titans stopped them from advancing into the city," another girl in silver said.

"I didn't mean today," Thalia whispered.

At last, the man came within ten yards. When he spoke, he was not shy, but rather shaken, as if he were more scared of himself than us. "Hello, children!" he called. "My name is Hermes. I-I would like to speak to you about… About my son Luke."

Hunter sighed and Brook made a small sound, hugging her tighter. "Great. I don't want to tell this story again."

"He's Luke's father," Brook whispered. "You have to."

"He probably regrets ignoring Luke until now," Thalia sighed.

"Fine," Hunter snapped. She stood, hauling Brook with her. "Bree, are you coming?"

"No," I said, feeling sick. "I… If you want me to, but I don't want to listen again." I flinched, seeing Luke again, crumpled on the floor, panicked and burned and too much like the dark-haired son of Hecate. I couldn't stand to think of him. That face that'd been Kronos for so long, an object of terror and awe, reduced to that. To what it really was. To see and know at last the hell Luke had been put through, and how just like for the Hecate kid, I hadn't done a single thing about it.

Hunter let out a long breath. "It's alright. Stay put. Yell if someone decides to shoot you." She gave Thalia a hard glance, then made her way to Hermes. I watched as they greeted one another, Hermes relaxed and Hunter tense, and made their way across the park as they talked.

They were still speaking when Thalia caught sight of someone – or many someones – behind me. "We're relieved, guys," she said, and her group left. I didn't hear my new jailer approach behind me, and I didn't care to turn and look. They were all the same to a dying girl that had so little hope left.

_"You."_

I bit my tongue to hold back a yelp and jumped when a hand landed on my shoulder. I whirled and scrambled back, hand flashing for my sword, before remembering that fighting wasn't going to do me any good. I stood there, panting, shocked. His black gaze met mine boldly.

My first thought was that he looked like… like _me._ We both had one of those faces that could be either male or female. The same face. His eyes were the same shape and his nose curved the same way and his hair, messy and uncut and falling well past his chin, was the same impossibly dark midnight as my own.

I gawked for a moment, stunned. Nico was my brother, but it'd never occurred to me that we'd look so alike.

He moved around the bench and stalked forward. His helm had been removed but he was still mostly dressed in his black armor. His jacket was torn to shreds beneath it, revealing a black t-shirt. The chain around his waist refused to clink as it should've. His eyes were sharp and so darkly colored, hidden by the shadow of his hair. His lips twitched a little, a micro-expression, and his head cocked to one side as he moved. Swift and silent and smooth, like a predator, like a shadow. All of it, combined with the intense, sharp, crazy look in his eyes screamed of one word; _feral._

"You're the wolf that kept picking through my mind," he accused coldly once we stood five feet from one another.

I swallowed thickly, shaking, though I knew my identity was no longer a secret and I was no longer required to kill him. I was glad – something about his voice made me happy I hadn't silenced it. "A… I'm sorry, a wolf?"

"Yes. I saw you as a wolf. Several times. You seemed lost." His eyes glinted curiously, noting my lack of a weapon.

"I saw you as a raven," I said. "But I knew who you were. After a while."

"Obviously." He blinked. "Only Father and I could summon a ghost, aside from you, and Father would not have done it. He never told me you existed."

"Are you sure he knew?" I laughed nervously. It seemed my father would've killed me if he had.

"Yes, I'm sure." Nico glanced off towards the city. "So were you satisfied? After speaking with him?"

"The ghost? Yeah. Though I still wish I knew his name."

"That's why he never told you."

"Don't scold me," I spat. "I'm not stupid."

"I wouldn't be speaking to you if you were. You'd be dead."

"I was under the impression you spoke to dead people often."

"Impressions? You'd base your world off impressions?"

"I was also under the impression that you were a madman, and that I wasn't ever to speak with you. And that the Olympians tortured their kids. And that Kronos had plans for the world. Yeah, yeah, you're right, it was stupid. _I get it._ Why'd you bother coming here if only to repeat the words I already torment myself with? Go. I don't need your help."

He was silent, staring at me with unreadable thoughts in his eyes. It made me uncomfortable. "…Where did you live? Before Kronos?"

The question caught me off guard. Why did he want to know? "Nowhere. Plenty places, as a human, but he was the one who told me I was a demigod."

He glanced away, back towards the throne room, visibly rolling his tongue over in his mouth as if some bitter taste lingered there. "Why," he whispered, "would you ever trust time?"

"Excuse me?"

He turned back to me, eyes wide now. "Why would you trust time? You never know how much of it you have left."

"Time.. Oh. Kronos. Lord of Time." I frowned, puzzled. The words were odd and random, but they made sense to an extent (as I was now so bitterly aware); they weren't the words of a madman.

His eyes, though, I was sure I could read insanity in.

He glanced back at the bench, then motioned to it with a pale hand. A silver skull ring glittered on his finger. "Sit. The Olympians are still speaking; you have a while yet."

"Oh, so you really were there to hear them talk?" I spat, but I sat down. He sat on my left, as if he saw the way I kept glancing to my right.

"Just Percy tell the story. Their verdict, though, they want to tell you before anyone else. Father's actually in there talking with them about it. The first time in ages. He's never been allowed up here aside from an annual meeting. I think he's fighting to keep you alive."

"Me? Why?"

"That's a long story," Nico said, and his gaze grew distant. His legs, I noticed, swung back and forth impatiently. Then his gaze cleared and landed on me. "Percy said you pulled some neat magic tricks."

Ah. I knew there was something he wanted. Though a madman shouldn't have been so skilled at getting it. "What, the mighty creator of the Black Wall lacks his own skills?"

He scowled. "Black Wall?"

"The one that brought down part of Mount Othrys."

"Oh. It's not there anymore. The palace. Zeus said it'd been destroyed when Kronos fell. It was the Romans that really toppled it, though; thanks to you, I'm now the only Greek demigod who knows of the Romans."

"Sorry," I mumbled, looking down and fiddling with the single ear bud I'd removed.

He didn't speak for a minute. Then he returned to what he was interested in. "Percy said you boiled Luke's blood."

"…Yeah…"

"How?"

"I… Um, don't know? It works like all my powers. The shadows." I smiled inside. _Ha. Figure that out on your own, kid._

"Tell me about the shadows," he insisted.

"They're… Shadows. The absence of light. Many things, actually. Your father used some that had melded with horses, or been melded into horses… I… I don't know much more than that, really. They like to respond to my emotions. They'll destroy things when I ask, and they can lend me strength, but they don't usually heal. That's all I know."

"You don't know… anything else?"

It struck me for the first time that this might be a quiz, not a grope for information. "Kronos never went into details, and Ethan didn't know much."

"Kronos avoided details on a lot of things," Nico muttered grimly. "This Ethan… He's the one that fell?"

I flinched. "You saw that?"

"Yes. It was my job to clean it up, too."

The image made me cringe. "I… He… The gun was his idea. Oh, gods, Ethan…" I squeezed my eyes shut and grit my teeth, digging my nails into my palms. No. I wouldn't lose it in front of him.

No matter how lost I felt right then.

"Let me see your sword," Nico said, changing the subject.

I was grateful and took my blade out to show him. "Did Percy mention the glyphs? I don't recall using them too much."

"He saw the sword morph a couple times, usually into a dagger," Nico said. He reached out tentatively and ran his finger down the length of the blade. "Where did you get this?"

"Kronos."

"And where did he get it?"

"He said it was forged by Telekhines, but I'm inclined to believe that was a lie."

"It's a nice blade," he praised. He frowned at the engravings. "What… What are those?"

"Glyphs. They work with magic. Those are specialized for Underworld stuff. Simple things, crafted for Stygian iron."

He passed a thumb over the symbols. As he did, the colors of them flashed for a moment. Simultaneously, his irises were shot over with a deep, dark blue. A beautiful cobalt color. For a moment, I was lost in the gem, and his eyes were just bright enough to see the pupil. Then it died and his iris returned to its previous, dead black.

I glanced over my shoulder at Hunter and Brook, who were still conversing with Hermes. Hunter's golden eyes met mine, just to check if I was alright. I nodded, and we both turned back to our conversations.

"Interesting," Nico said. He handed Întuneric back to me. "Do you know what Stygian iron does?"

"Um… Kills things?"

"Well, yes, but how?"

"It's… A demon metal?"

He gave me a sincerely puzzled look. "Demon metal? Did Kronos tell you that?"

"He did. And I kinda inferred it."

Nico shook his head. "Stygian iron _absorbs._ Everything it kills, it remembers. You can touch your sword and find little pieces of the people it's killed. It's the way our kind have reminded ourselves of those we've slain, the things we don't want to forget, the value of life, what we stand for as Hades's children…" His gaze softened to… sadness? "…You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

I shook my head. How little did I really know about my powers? Were they as demonic as Kronos had said, or was there something more…? The idea didn't fill me with hope as it might have in a better time, but right then, it just spawned interest.

And the violent will to learn more.

"It sounds like the two of you have a lot to talk about."

I jumped and the dry voice. He had just appeared behind Nico, gazing at us with unreadable eyes. His red cloak and armor were still on, and his sword hung from his waist, but he had lost the Helm of Darkness.

"Pluto," I muttered, dipping my head. Nico turned and got up from the bench. His own sword hung from his waist, still refusing to rattle the chain. The blade lacked glyphs.

"Don't bow to me, girl. Formalities have been dismissed for the day. Hence me here."

"Does that mean Zeus decided to continue his ban?" Nico muttered bitterly.

"No. I'm allowed here from here on out. As are all other gods." His eyes met mine, and whatever he may have thought of me right then, his emotions were hidden well behind a wall of recognition. "Nemesis and the others will all have thrones, too. In fact, I had some ideas for mine…"

"And for the cabin at Camp Half-Blood," Nico reminded him.

"Yes, that, too, but nobody's going to be staying there," Hades muttered. "You have work and Bree is banned."

I swallowed thickly. "From Camp, or from life?"

"Zeus will fill you in on the details. I have found a place for you and Hunter to live, and Brook if she wishes to accompany you still. You are technically my responsibility now, especially since Perceus Jackson forced new laws upon us. The ones that gave me equality here and the other gods thrones are the same that now bind us more strongly to our children." He scowled. "Nobody wants this war, the usage of unclaimed demigods, to repeat itself. I'm familiar with the idea."

The second World War, of course.

"Father," Nico said.

"Right, right. Anyway, there is a place for you to stay, and the gods will be watching you closely. I'll know when you're free, and send Nico your way. You can teach one another what you know."

"Trust me? With a secret? While spying on me the whole time? Isn't that just complicating things?" I asked.

"Oh, you won't be learning any secrets," he scoffed. Ah, there was the hate and mistrust I'd been waiting for. "You're banned from the Underworld until you die. But I'd rather have you educated in our magic and risk you revealing what you know than running around using it blindly. Bad things happened the last time anyone did that."

Nico looked at his shoes and scuffed at the grass nonchalantly.

Hades sighed. "My brothers Zeus and Poseidon approach. They wish to speak with you. I'll leave them to the formalities. Between the dead the new arrangements to be made, I have my hands full. Come, Nico."

He turned, and Nico followed silently on his heels. As they left, I looked around for Zeus and Poseidon, but I couldn't see them.

My ears picked up a conversation I know I wasn't mean to hear. Nico's hushed voice, from yards away, carried by the soft breeze. "Are you sure you can teach her what she needs without letting her visit the Underworld?" he demanded.

"I'll be able to teach her exactly what I want her to know, and nothing less," my father's voice hissed back. I flinched and kept my gaze away from them, staring out at the park and pretending not to hear. "Remember, she is not a demigod. She is not one of _you._ She isn't like you, or like the one you're thinking of. Besides, do you really want to see her every time you come to visit me or another ghost?"

My gaze was skimming the park as a bored person's might. I didn't mean to cross Nico's gaze right then, but I did. He turned to stare at me as I crossed his path. It wasn't just a stare. He glared at me with such contempt I almost gave myself away and did a double take. So much raw dislike radiated from those black eyes, hand-in-hand with the feeling that he didn't want to stand any closer, like I had some sort of disease. The gaze was so violent, the earth seemed to rock beneath my feet, and I froze solid, forgetting how to breathe. His hand clenched tightly on his sword hilt.

"…No," he eventually decided, and walked with Hades out of the park.

I swallowed thickly and gasped, turning away. My hands shook. He'd sat there and had a whole conversation with me, hiding such hate the whole time? I felt betrayed, stabbed in the back, just from that short little lie.

I really couldn't trust a single soul alive, could I?

But then a footstep sounded from behind me and I relaxed. There were two people I _could _trust.

"Hey. What did the insane asylum escapee want?" Hunter asked as she plopped down on the bench. I breathed a sigh of relief and sat next to her, Brook between us. "Was he mean?"

"Not much, and no, he was polite," I said. "Though he gave me this weird look. The kid wants to murder me."

She nodded. "Most people here do."

"Yet we won't."

We jumped as two men burst into existence before us. Zeus, his long beard brushing his armor, stood to our right. His metal stick had vanished. Poseidon stood to his right, his armor decorated with fish scales. He gave us a calm, collected stare that hid his thoughts from view.

Hunter gazed at them evenly. "So, what's the verdict?"

"Very blunt, aren't you?"

"My father encouraged bluntness, so long it wasn't rude," Hunter said, and crossed her legs casually.

Zeus scowled. "Your father knew exactly how to _not _be blunt, dressing up petty things in pretty words. I thought you'd have recognized that by now."

"Look what great his pretty words did. I'm not inclined to repeat them, and that should come as a relief to you," Hunter replied, golden eyes glinting.

He sighed. "No Olympian here trusts you entirely. Some not at all. Is that understood, and is it understood that it's fair?"

"Clearly," Brook said.

"Good. So we're on the same page," Zeus murmured. He sighed. "As a result, you are banned from Olympus, Camp Half-Blood, and the Underworld unless you get the approval from a god. And for the Underworld, that god must be Hades. Do not venture into places you are not welcome. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir," Hunter said, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward. "What other constraints do we have?"

"Well, for Brook, all contact with Artemis will be forbidden, despite the fresh-made laws allowing us to be softer to our children. That is mainly for the good of the goddess," Poseidon said. "It's both punishment and rehabilitation for breaking her oath. Many of us hate what Brook is, but we won't punish her for her mother's crimes."

Brook nodded. "I understand."

"For some reason, I expected a band of rebels to be more difficult," Zeus muttered. "The leaders of the rebellion, no less."

"We didn't lead that rebellion," Brook said softly. "Ethan did."

There was a moment of awkward silence. Then Zeus said, "My brother Hades has claimed custody of Bree and Hunter and found a place for them to live. Brook is welcome to join you if she wishes."

"She does," Brook muttered.

"Very well. You are being relocated. Most of the rebel demigods are. You three will be in upstate New York, close enough to keep an eye on. And because that's where your grandmother lives."

I blinked, shocked. "…Our grandmother?"

"Yes. The woman that bore the mothers of you and Hunter. She's alive and has been searching for you for ages. The only reason she didn't succeed was Kronos's careful guard over you."

I was shocked into silence. I glanced to my right, wondering what Ethan had to say, and flinched away again.

"You're to live with her and her husband, go to school, and live as most demigods do when not at Camp. Don't leave the city unless it's under dire circumstances. Is that clear?" Zeus demanded.

"Clear," Hunter said.

"Good. She'll be happy to see you. Hestia is waiting outside in a car. She has agreed to take you home."

Hunter blinked. "Now?"

"Now."

There was a moment of tense silence.

"Well, you could thank us for finding you a home," Zeus said hopefully.

"I could. I could also thank you for being kinder than you could have been. I could also thank you for accepting the new laws Percy suggested to prevent another war. And I'm grateful that I have those luxuries," Hunter said smoothly. "But quite frankly I'm just too tired to remember your name."

"Zeus," the god said, shifting nervously. I don't think anyone had forgotten his name before. Of course, Hunter would be the one to do it. I smiled sadly.

She nodded. "Zeus. I'll remember that."

"And we'll remember you," he said, meeting her level gaze. She stood, and they shook hands.

Then she turned and waved Brook and I to our feet. "Come on. Let's bust this joint. I've had enough excitement for a lifetime."

That was something I hadn't ever expected her to say. It was almost funny enough to make me laugh.

oOo

_She walked, through bullets and haze._

_I told her to stop; I begged her to stay._

_But she pressed on, so I lifted my gun,_

_And I fired away…_

Excitement was a sad term to use.

I'm pretty sure this was what Hunter had meant, this horrible, rotting feeling inside, but _excitement _was the wrong name for it.

The demigods had turned the Empire State Building into a medical center. The bodies were being gathered in the lobby. Most were covered with shrouds. I caught sight of Herald lying next to Nick and looked away quickly. But then, of course, I found myself catching Hunter's stiff, wide-eyed gaze and discovered that she had already found the shroud dedicated to Ethan.

It was a black thing that held no design, as if they hadn't known the name to engrave on a tombstone. The only marker was a slightly bloodied eye patch.

The sight caught in my throat like a hard ball. The empty air to my right burned like crazy. I stared at that black shroud, the nameless cloth marked only by a symbol of his deal, of all he'd done, and cried. Really, truly cried. There was so much I wished I could tell him about. The gun, Luke, Nico, Percy's reforms, Hermes's tears, Zeus's forgiveness.

But he was gone. Not out of sight, not sleeping in his dorm with Kyle, not off on some quest or errand. Not missing. Not plotting a great underground rebellion to stand for what was right. Not keeping the secret of horrible torture.

Just gone. Gone, gone, gone, and never coming back.

He wouldn't ever have a home. He wouldn't ever see the balance he'd restored. He wouldn't ever know how well his desperate gun had worked. He wouldn't ever enter that chess tournament.

_You could have come with us,_ I tried to say. But I could not speak. _If you'd just held on to my hand, let me pull you up, you could have found a home with the three of us… You would've seen all that… You could've seen the balance, been free of Kronos… You could've been happy…_

I remembered the furious look he'd given us when we'd saved him from Ladon and when we'd vowed to get back at Herald for harassing him. His cold indifference to us before. He was scared of people, so unfamiliar to the bonds of a deep friendship, new to anything stronger than an unstable alliance. I remembered the way he'd looked out for me and for Brook, the way he'd comforted Hunter after Kronos had beat her, how he'd been there when we needed him. When he'd accepted our help.

Staring at his burial shroud, I was so glad we had taught him all we had when we had the chance. And just as grateful for what he'd taught us. Every inch of it. I never wanted to forget.

Întuneric buzzed in my pocket. It hadn't killed Ethan. I wondered what Nico had said, about it holding memories. It'd cut Ethan – perhaps I still had a piece of him with me.

I turned back to the shroud, knowing that I didn't need the sword to carry Ethan on with me. He was my whole world, now that he was gone. Who needed the metal to remember? Such a bright soul, snuffed out like an insignificant candle by that rotten skeleton.

_A hero of war._

_Is that what they see?_

_Just medals and scars, so damn proud of me?_

_I brought home that flag; now it gathers dust._

_But it's a flag that I love, it's the only flag I trust._

There was nothing beautiful about war. No matter what it might look like at times, when you were lost in a fight (despite the image saving your life), the skeleton was its true colors. A skeleton dancing on a burial shroud. So much bloodshed, so many lives lost.

Kyle, Brianna, the dark-haired boy, Herald, Jaden, all the others. Luke. Now Ethan.

I turned off my iPod, silencing _Hero of War _by Rise Against and following my sisters as we trudged out the doors.

A silver van waited for us. A girl sat at the wheel – she appeared to be eight, but she was Hestia, a goddess, so I assumed it was a disguise.

She smiled warmly at us through the window and waved us towards the back seat. The expression felt like a nice, cozy fire inside, calming the torrent of agonizing emotions inside. I relaxed as I opened the door and climbed in.

I went in last, so that nothing took his place at my right besides the door and window. Yet I was suddenly so calm, so tranquil, inside that car. It smelled of perfectly-baked s'mores and a hint of cinnamon. They went well together.

"Hello, children," crooned the eight-year-old girl. Her voice smoothed out the tenseness in my muscles. "I've heard a lot about you. And I saw the fight from my hearth. You have many great stories to tell."

"We have many we don't wish to repeat."

"As is are the stories of many half-bloods. My heart goes out to you. Especially those who don't have a home," Hestia said sadly. "Everyone deserves a home."

Ethan's face flashed before my eyes again. I squeezed them shut. The sadness was calm and slow this time, but it was still there, and it still hurt.

"Lady Hestia?" Brook asked.

"Yes, child?"

"You're the goddess of hearth and home, right? You're the one that lit the hearth and melted Backbiter?"

"Yes," Hestia smiled. "I did. I also house the spirit of Hope, since Perceus handed it to me in that vase you guys gave him. I think she is happy with me." She put the car into gear and the engine hummed soothingly, like a reassuring purr from a happy fat cat.

I watched out the window as the car softly lifted from the pavement, floating into the air. I looked away before we got too high, remembering Ethan's hand slipping from mine, and turned to Hunter and Brook. The small brunet had fallen asleep leaning against my shoulder.

I smiled, stroking her hair. For the smallest moment, all thoughts of Ethan and Kronos and Luke left my mind. I was just glad she was there. Gods know what I'd do without her.

And I had Hunter. Our gazes met, and she smiled apologetically. I smiled back. The old bond we'd had between us all our lives was there now, stronger than concrete or Stygian iron or an oath over the Styx.

Maybe, with them, in a new home, I would make it through this.

"So," Hunter said after a moment, breaking our gaze. She stared at the back of Hestia's seat. "I named my scythe."

"You did?" I asked, mildly surprised. "What changed your mind?"

"Something Ethan told me. I don't know if he ever told you. The scythe's name is Anonymous."

That warm, bittersweet feeling gathered in my chest again. "Yes. Yeah, he told me. I like it."

"He never said his sword should lack a name, and neither should my scythe," she sighed. "The blade always needs a name; unlike a human, it's the only way the blade will earn credit."

I nodded. The rest of the trip was spent in comfortable, almost drugged-like silence. I closed my eyes and drifted. I think I fell asleep for most of the ride.

"We're here."

Hestia's voice woke me. The car had stopped vibrating. I frowned and looked out the window. We were in the outskirts of what looked like a small city – broad and packed, but with no towers all the way to the shining lake on its other side. The lake was huge, so vast I couldn't see its other shores. The house was old and had peeling light blue paint and dirtied white windowsills. A tattered, rusty door was shut. The yard was not a yard – rather, a slanted gravel parking lot that looked dangerous to play in. Two trashcans sat empty next to the street. The sun was beginning to set, not quite bathing the place in blood but just faintly outlining it in a nice, soft, homey orange that seemed to put the finishing touches on the scene.

It made me relax, that last little detail. The sun still set and rose here, as it had over Mount Othrys and our training clearing and as it still did over the mountain's ruins. Ethan would have liked this place.

Then, that rusty door opened just a crack. Wild barking erupted. A small but fast little blur shot out and spun in frantic circles, yipping and howling. But it never growled.

"Ozzy!" an exasperated voice called from inside. "Get back in here and quit harassing the neighbor's dogs!"

The little tan Chihuahua stopped spinning and instead stood and stared at our big silver SUV, wagging his tail slowly. From the door appeared another small dog, this one long-haired and a metallic blue. Yorkshire terrier.

"We didn't warn your grandparents we were coming," Hestia sighed. "Oh, dear."

"Hey, I'm the best surprise you could give anyone," Hunter said proudly.

Hestia smiled. "Right. Let's go investigate your new home, shall we?"

oOo

**Nyx: Woo! Dang, long chapter! I like it long, though; don't want to break it up. I apologize for being late. Again. If this is not obvious, I will state it clearly here; while my free time is mine to spend, ALL of my free time is spent, ah, on call. So at any given time, it might not be my free time anymore. SO SORRY this is late! Worst chapter ever to be late on! I'm so sorry!**

**Nic: Ethan!**

**Nyx: Yeah, Ethan…**

**Nic: Anybody seen the second Karate Panda movie?**

**Nyx: Kung Fu, not Karate.**

**Nic: Whatever. Watch it. Percy equals Po. They have different backgrounds but similar personalities. Same with Kronos and the peacock. Ethan and the one-eyed wolf… Well, they share quite a bit. Just watch it.**

**Nyx: The sound track is awesome.**

**Nic: That's what you got out of that movie?**

**Nyx: There will be an epilogue, guys! It will be posted right after this (It's already written) and in the AN will contain a schedule for book two (Rejects) and all our special thanks and yada yada yada. You'll hate us for it.**

**Nic: Tell us what you think of the final chapter, guys. (*not counting the epilogue, meaning this one*). Please review! We love to hear what you guys have to say. Tell us what struck you the most in this chapter, the conclusions it's drawn, etc. Please please please! Pretty please with an Ethan on top? No, wait, I take that back. The Ethan is mine. But you can have the ice cream!**

**Nyx: *staring into empty Altoids can* Yeah… Hey, I wonder what different mints Leo's belt holds…**

**Nic: As long as I'm alive you'll never find it. You would destroy the world.**

**Nyx: X/ Yeah I probably would.**

**(Look up that song, too. Obviously, I can't put all of it in there, but the full version is very strong and supports the same theme it did in here.)**


	53. Epilogue

**DISCLAIMER: Guess what? Nothing's changed. Rick Riordan owns PJatO and HoO, not us.**

oOo

"They are dangerous. They are not demigods. And they are not the kind of people you need to get attached to," Hades said. He glanced up and down the dark street from where he stood before the Universal Studios entrance. But nobody came down this street, not at this time of night. Not even in a city like LA. The streetlights were all out and even the sky above seemed unnaturally dark. It was not lit by the city's lights, and still it lacked stars.

"Yes, Father," Nico replied. His eyes were closed and he seemed to have heard this before, but he listened. She smiled – see, he wasn't everything the rumors said.

She knew, for she had kept track of the rumors. They were everything to her. And at long last, she had caught whiff of what she'd been hoping for.

"I'm not sure if Hunter or Bree is more dangerous," Hades went on. Inside the Studios, shadows flickered and moved, vague human shapes that were hard to keep in focus. Neither of them seemed to notice her hiding in the ditch nearby – though yet again, who would? It was stinky and damp and nasty. But it wasn't the worst thing she had crawled into on her ongoing quest for survival. "If it were anyone else, I'd say Hunter. But you… You must be careful around Bree, understood?"

"Yes, Father," Nico replied. His gaze opened and swept the streets. She tensed as it went over her, and relaxed as it left. He hadn't noticed her snooping.

"Can you handle this, or should I tell Zeus to ask someone else?"

"I'm fine with it," Nico said, an edge in his voice. "Besides, we really could benefit from the magic she knows."

"True. And it holds an advantage over my brothers, us being the closest ones to them…"

"Father, you can't keep thinking like that. This is our chance to restart."

"Yes, well, I was merely referring to brotherly competition – something you won't ever understand, son – and honestly, you and I have always prided ourselves in being unique. It'd be a shame to lose every ounce of mystery and awe we hold now, wouldn't it?"

Nico chuckled dryly, staring out over the midnight streets. "It would."

She smirked, flexing her fingers into the mushy grass. _Not so mysterious now, are you?_

Oh, she wouldn't tell anyone of this conversation. She wasn't here to blackmail or bust Nico and his father. Or the Olympians, seeing as they were working together more now. She had come for the rumors, to see if they were true. And by some miracle, they were.

A child of the Titans was alive and breathing somewhere in the United States. Not only that; Hunter was known of and tolerated by the gods. What good news for the girl hiding in the ditch, to at last hear word of such a phenomenon. The hope of this day had been the only thing that'd kept her breathing for so long.

There was hope for her yet.

oOo

**Special Thanks to;**

**Karode – First reviewer, eccentric fan. Kept us inspired. Great writer yourself, too. Thanks so much for the support!**

**Assassin427 – Another persistent reviewer. You tried to answer what we asked for and constantly let us know you were still reading. Another good source of motivation. Thanks for everything.**

**We appreciate all reviewers and each review – we read each one and discuss them. Everyone who posted has helped us out in some way. This wouldn't have turned out as it did without you.**

**Schedule for The Daughter of Darkness – Rejects;**

**The prologue (which is actually this same epilogue repeated at the beginning of Rejects) will appear on Friday, May 10****th****. The first chapter will follow on May 11****th****. The next chapter will be on that Monday, and the next on Thursday. The break between stories will give us time to reread and do some final notes on our rough drafts and hopefully give Nyx a head start so she doesn't end up working so hard to meet deadlines. The days may shift around a bit once the story is under way, but you will be notified when they do. **

**Nyx: Oh my gosh. To mark this story complete. O.O *has zoned out***

**Nic: You still got four more. Don't worry.**

**Nyx: Yeah…**

**Nic: Feel free to review on this chapter, guys. On the epilogue (did you really expect anything OTHER than a cliffhanger at this point?) and anything that covers the whole in general. Ex; "Overall…" Etc. **

**Nyx: I got a few one-shots coming up soon, too. They might show up sooner than Rejects. Keep an eye on the profile.**

**Nic: You know what I want right now?**

**Nyx: ?**

**Nic: Food.**

**Nyx: Stroganoff?**

**Nic: Sounds alright.**

**Nyx: Let's go raid the kitchen.**

**Nic: *picks up bag of Ricola when leaving the room***

**Nyx's (Fat) Cat: Mrrow? *follows girls out of room* **

**(Translation; OOOH open fridge give me milk, maybe?)**

**Nyx: Fine! Just don't tell anyone!**

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**O.#**

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